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Oliver Goldsmith 



After the painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the 
National Portrait Gallery 



IRVING'S 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH 



A BIOGRAPHY 



Edited 

\^/lTH l-NT:i65>UpVIQN\ AN,D NOTES 

CHARLES ROBERT GASTON 

Teacher of English, Richmond Hill High School 
New York City 



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BOSTON, U.S.A. i 


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COMPANY, PUBLISHERS | 


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1903 1 



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Copyright, 1903, by 
CHARLES ROBERT GASTON 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



[Permission to reprint the Oliver Goldsmith has been granted by Geo. P. Putnam's 
Sons, publishers of the authorized and complete editions of Irving's works.] 






TO 

JAMES MORGAN HART 

BY WHOM THE EDITOR HAS BEEN LED 
( TO A 

FINER APPRECIATION 

OF 
WASHINGTON IRVING 



•\i< 



PREFACE 

The introductory matter in this volume aims to induce in 
the average high-school pupil the right attitude with which 
to begin reading the biography. The annotation is thought 
to be not over-elaborate nor too scant. The student is 
encouraged to work out for himself points the significance 
of which he might miss without aid. (See remarks at the 
top of page 355.) The topics and questions, which are 
inserted at the ends of the chapters, will accomplish their 
purpose if they arouse a class to enthusiastic discussion of 
the biography or direct the individual reader to a clear and 
comprehensive view of Irving's work. The chronological 
table is meant for reference. Included in the table are the 
dates of issue of the college entrance texts published during 
the period 1728-1859. 

The editor has kept in mind throughout the book the fact 
that this biography is set down in the college entrance list 
for reading. rather than study. Nevertheless, he has believed 
that probably most school courses will devote a month to the 
Oliver Goldsmith^ and that in such cases the line between 
reading and study ought not to be sharply drawn. If so 
much time is allowed, this edition will suggest ways of spend- 
ing it advantageously. If less time is apportioned to the 



viii PREFACE 

volume, the topics and questions and the notes regarding 
Irving's vocabulary need not be considered fully. 

The text is, in the main, that of a late authorized edition 
pubHshed by G. P. Putnam's Sons, who have obligingly 
granted permission to reprint. Some of the differences 
noted between the latest text and the first edition are men- 
tioned on page 363. The three different biographies of 
Goldsmith by Irving are described in the footnote, page xii. 

Brooklyn, September 16, 1903. 



CONTENTS 

Introduction : Page 

I. Irving and his Oliver Goldsmith xi 

II. Chronological Table xxiv 

III. Note concerning the Topics and Questions xxix 



Author's Preface , . . . . 3 

Oliver Goldsmith : A Biography 5 

General Topics 351 

Notes 355 



INTRODUCTION 



I. IRVING AND HIS OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

It might seem a remarkable fact that in 1848, when 
he was over sixty years old, Washington Irving thought 
his popularity as a writer had ended, but that only a few 
years later, after the republication of his works had been 
undertaken by Mr. George P. Putnam, large sums were made 
from the widely extending sale. Yet this feeling of the 
author is perfectly natural when the characteristics of the 
man are considered. Irving was of a shrinking, delicately 
grained disposition. His life from beginning to end was 
marked by unobtrusive attention to letters, and his years of 
maturity were made notable by a sunny, wholesome, literary 
productiveness. 

The strange thing might seem to be that a man of so 
well-regulated a life as Irving's could sympathize with an 
Oliver Goldsmith, palliate his many heedless blunders, and 
even apologize for his apparently inexcusable irregularities. 
Irving had so hearty a regard for the subject of his biog- 
raphy that it is doubtful whether any person not already 
hopelessly callous can close the volume without sharing in 
the author's bias toward the gifted but unfortunate poet, 
essayist, novelist, and writer of dramas, "Poor Goldsmith." 
It will be of interest to find out, first, what started Irving 
into the project of a biography of Goldsmith; in the second 
place, how long he was in completing the work ; thirdly, 
what success the book met ; fourthly, what incidents in his 
career and what characteristics of his genius corresponded, 
however slightly, with those in the life and character of 



xii INTRODUCTION 

Goldsmith ; and, lastly, what was the general course of Irv- 
ing's tranquil literary life. Answers to these questions will 
explain sufficiently what should be known about Irving by 
every school reader of the Oliver Gold377iith. 

The first three queries may be answered quite briefly. The 
biography of Washington Irving by his nephew, Mr. Pierre 
M. Irving, throws light on the subject. In August, 1849, 
Washington Irving called at the office of his nephew, and 
" speaking of his fagging at the Life of Goldsmith^ two or 
three chapters of which he had still to write, said that it 
had taken more time than he could afford — had plucked the 
heart out of his summer; and after all he could only play 
with the subject. He had no time to finish it off as he 
wished." Irving was at this time making a revised edition 
of his works and had brought out all but two volumes, 
A Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada and The Alhambra. 
Yet he had interrupted the preparation of this new edition 
and the composition of his Life of Washifigton in order to 
take up the Goldsmith. " It was a sudden literary freak," 
says Pierre Irving, " similar to that which had induced him, 
when first in Spain, to break off from Columbus in order to 
begin the chronicles of Granada, and had subsequently drawn 
him aside to his Moorish Chronicles." 

1 This title, which is a handy designation chosen by Washington Irving's 
nephew and which is tlie form usually quoted, is inaccurate. Washington 
Irving wrote, besides an inconsequential abridgment published in Paris in 1825 
and in Philadelphia in 1830, two distinct biographies of Goldsmith. The first, 
entitled, The Life of Oliver Goldsmith, was published in 1840 (Harper & Bros.) ; 
it is part of an i8mo two-volume edition of Goldsmith's writings. The "bio- 
graphical sketch," as it is called in the table of contents, contains one hundred 
seventy-nine pages, not divided into chapters. The second, published in 1849 
(Geo. P. Putnam), is entitled Oliver Goldsmith : A Biography. This is the book 
included in the uniform entrance requirements for 1906, 1907, and 1908. It is, in 
the first edition, a i2mo volume of three hundred eighty -two pages, divided into 
forty-five chapters. Copies of both these books have been used freely by the 
present editor in the Astor Library, to the officers of which institution, especially 
Mr. L. S. Judd, acknowledgments are gratefully made for numerous courtesies. 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

This " sudden freak " to take up the life of Goldsmith 
had its origin in the interest which Irving took in Forster's 
biography of Goldsmith. One day when Irving was looking 
at Forster's new book, in the office of Mr. George P. Putnam, 
he said that he believed he would himself write a life of 
Goldsmith. He had previously, in 1825, made, as he says 
himself, " a mere modification of an interesting Scottish 
memoir " of Goldsmith for a Paris edition of Goldsmith's 
works, and this sketch had already in America been com- 
pletely rewritten and prefixed to selections from Goldsmith 
in Harper's " Family Library." It was therefore not diffi- 
cult for the author to get to work on the proposed larger 
biography, which the publisher heartily urged him to under- 
take. Inside of two months, says Mr. Putnam, the first 
sheets of the Oliver Goldsmith were in the printer's hands, 
and the volume was published in two or three weeks. 

When the book came out, Mr. Pierre Irving congratulated 
his uncle on the quality of his work, whereupon Washington 
Irving replied that he had been afraid to look at it since 
completion, because he had never done anything else in such 
a hurry. He felt that he ought to have had more time for it. 
He complained that he had knocked off the work in an offhand 
manner which was not characteristic of most of his writing. 

Though written hurriedly, the Oliver Goldsmith had an 
immediate and wide popularity. A first edition of twenty- 
five hundred was all disposed of by September 19, 1849, 
and a second edition of two thousand was well under way. 
Highly commendatory reviews were partly responsible for this 
success. In a review published by the Tribune, Mr. George 
Ripley, the literary editor of that paper, said among other 
things, " With a genial admiration of Goldsmith, with a cor- 
dial appreciation of the spirit of his writings, and with many 
similar intellectual tendencies, Irving has portrayed the varied 
picture of Goldsmith's life with a grace and elegance that 



xiv • INTRODUCTION 

make his narrative as charming a piece of composition as 
can be found in the whole range of his former works." In 
conclusion Mr. Ripley added that there could not be a more 
admirable description of the influence of Irving's own writ- 
ings than that author had given of Goldsmith in the open- 
ing paragraph of the biography. When reviews like these 
were freely contributed to contemporary periodicals, it is no 
wonder that the volume was an immediate success from the 
point of view of the publisher. 

Why, in the fourth place, the sage of Sunnyside was able 
to write successfully the life of Oliver Goldsmith is not diffi- 
cult to understand. Irving had sympathy and penetration. 
His knack for catching the spirit of the life of any character 
in whom he was interested was remarkable. Even in the 
case of Columbus and Washington, about the details of 
whose lives much has been learned by the painstaking his- 
torians of later years, Irving was able to comprehend the 
essential man and to present a faithful and true conception. 
In his Oliver Golds77iith, also, by this same insight into 
human motives, Irving has presented a picture that remains 
an adequate and trustworthy delineation of the man Oliver 
Goldsmith, even though later biographers may have added 
a few details regarding the mere facts in his life. 

There were, too, a few special reasons, due to similarity 
of temperament and external circumstance, why Irving wrote 
sympathetically and understandingly concerning Goldsmith. 
Both were men who shrunk from giving pain to others, 
who unconsciously imparted good humor and kindliness to 
any circle in w^hich they happened to be. Yet both were 
modest and rather retiring in company. Neither had the 
slightest taste for political life. Both were of an independent 
spirit. " Who does not admire the sturdy independence of 
poor Goldsmith toiling in his garret for nine guineas the job ? " 
says Irving, in Chapter XXI of his biography, regarding 



INTRODUCTION XV 

the rejection by Goldsmith of a tempting offer to earn 
liberal pay by writing for the party of Lord North, Again, 
both were of generous instincts. To be sure, Irving was the 
better balanced ; he knew better how to control his impulses. 
It was the lack of balance which made glaring defects in 
Goldsmith's character. Yet in all these respects the authors 
had similar tendencies in character. 

In external circumstances, the superficial points of dif- 
ference appear more striking than those of resemblance. 
Goldsmith and Irving, for example, both traveled widely 
on the Continent, but there was a vast difference in the cir- 
cumstances of their travels. Goldsmith journeyed through 
many cities and towns on foot and penniless, gaining his 
subsistence by means of his songs and his flute, or stopping 
at universities to dispute for a dinner and a night's lodging 
with any who would offer themselves as disputants. In this 
manner, according to his biographers, though the facts can- 
not be proved by indisputable records, he made his way 
first through Flanders and northern France, and then from 
Marseilles through part of southern France and Piedmont 
and some of the Italian states. Irving, on the other hand, 
journeyed here and there on the Continent in comfortable 
circumstances and, at one period of his life, with the recog- 
nition everywhere that comes to a diplomatist in the service 
of a powerful government. The contrast between Irving's 
journey from Madrid to Versailles in 1843, ^^^ Goldsmith's 
wandering journey of 1755 is remarkable. Irving's quiet, 
happy journey is seen from such extracts as this from a let- 
ter to one of his nieces : " I must tell you that I have thus 
far enjoyed my journey extremely. I do not know when 
scenery had a more vivifying effect on my feelings than in 
passing from the dreary, parched wastes of the Castles to 
the green mountains and valleys of the Basque provinces. 
The nights were superb, a full moon lighting up splendid 



xvi INTRODUCTION 

•mountain scenery ; the air bland, and fresh, and balmy, 
instead of the parching airs of Madrid. The first sight of 
the sea, too, and the inhaling of the sea-breeze, brought a 
home feeling that was quite reviving. You cannot imagine 
how beautiful France looks to me, with her orchards and 
vineyards, and groves, and green meadows, after naked, 
sterile Spain. I feel confident I shall return from this 
excursion with a stock of health and good spirits to carry 
me through the winter." Of similar tone is this extract 
three months later, on his return to Madrid: "I arrived in 
Madrid about ten days since, after a somewhat rapid journey; 
but I had the 7tiail carriage to myself^ and was enabled to 77iake 
myself comfortable.'' And this : " I was cordially welcomed 
back by my brother diplomatists, and really had a home feel- 
ing on finding myself once more among them." Contrast 
these with Goldsmith's account of his journey of 1755 seen 
in the passage from The Traveller^ quoted at the end of 
Chapter XV of Irving's Oliver Goldsmith, and in the various 
passages of The Vicar of Wakefield which Irving regards as 
autobiographical, though William Black, in the English Men 
of Letters, Goldsmith (page 17), remarks that the adventures 
described in Chapter XX of The Vicar of Wakefield cannot 
be assumed without question to be drawn from Goldsmith's 
own life. On the whole, with respect to external conditions, 
as seen in travel abroad, Irving would hardly be expected to 
comprehend Goldsmith. 

There is, nevertheless, a basis for sympathy even in the 
matter of their travels. The mere fact of Irving's having 
gained the wider knowledge of life which is secured best by 
extensive travel would prevent him from taking a purely 
insular and prejudiced view of Goldsmith. His residence 
also for a considerable time in England and his familiarity 
there with the haunts of Goldsmith would help to let him 
into the secrets of Goldsmith's life. 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

In another respect the two men were entirely similar in 
the externals of Hfe. Neither married. Irving sorrowed 
deeply over the death of her whom he loved when he was 
a young man, and always remained true to the love of his 
early manhood. Goldsmith, after he had won success as 
an author, became tenderly attached to a beautiful young 
woman, to whom his devotion was steadfast. This likeness 
in celibacy probably accounts for the nature of numerous 
references to the Jessamy Bride in Irving's biography of 
Goldsmith, and constitutes a bond of sympathy between the 
two men. 

Finally, in the consideration of the one question that 
remains of the five asked at the beginning, there may be 
presented a short narrative of the life of Irving as an 
author, not intended in any sense to take the place of a 
reading of the biography by Charles Dudley Warner, or of 
the somewhat discursive, but thoroughly entertaining Life 
and Letters of Irviiig by Pierre M. Irving. 

Washington Irving, named after George Washington, whom 
the patriot father of Washington Irving greatly admired, was 
born in New York, April 3, 1783, at a time when the center 
of population was near Trinity Church, when Chambers 
Street was at the edge of the thickly settled portion of the 
city, and when there were no authors of distinction in Amer- 
ica. For the city of his birth he always had a warm affec- 
tion. While in Paris in 1824 he longed to be once more in 
New York, and wrote to a friend, " There is a charm about 
that little spot of earth, that beautiful city and its environs, 
that has a perfect spell over my imagination. The bay, the 
rivers and their wild and woody shores, the haunts of my 
boyhood, both on land and water, absolutely have a witchery 
over my mind. I thank God for my having been born in so 
beautiful a place, among such beautiful scenery ; I am con- 
vinced I owe a vast deal of what is good and pleasant in my 



xviii INTRODUCTION 

nature to the circumstance." To the New Yorker it is a 
source of pride that Irving in the later years of his Ufe was 
not without honor in his native city — he refused a nomina- 
tion for Mayor — and that at the present time the general 
esteem in which his memory is held has led to the erec- 
tion of a statue in one of the most beautiful spots of New 
York City. 

From 1802, when he first began to write, until 18 18, when 
the Irving brothers went into bankruptcy in London, the 
story of Washington Irving's life has to do merely with the 
trifling, unsettled experiments of a sociably inclined young 
bachelor. His first venture as an author was a series of 
letters signed " Jonathan Oldstyle," contributed to the Morn- 
ing Chronicle. These, although they were plainly imitations 
of the Spectator essays, attracted considerable attention. 
They consisted of satirical comments on theaters and actors 
and on plays that were presented at the time in New York. 
Irving had become a law clerk in the office of Josiah Ogden 
Hoffman, but felt little inclination for serious study of the 
law. He was weakly in body. He liked excursions in 
the Hudson River region and up the Mohawk better than 
the reading of law books. In spite of much outdoor life he 
remained in poor health, so that his brothers, who were pros- 
pering in business, sent him abroad in 1804. The captain 
of the sailing vessel on which he took passage remarked on 
seeing the young man's consumptive look, " There 's a chap 
who will go overboard before we get across." Instead, he 
grew somewhat better, and spent nearly two years in Europe. 
He traveled with much enjoyment through France, Italy, the 
^Netherlands, and England, without making any contribu- 
tions to literature. He returned to New York in February, 
1806. 

For nine years he remained in America, and in an off- 
hand, casual mode turned out some of his best writings. 



INTRODUCTION xix 

During these years he was a favorite in the society of Bal- 
timore, Washington, Albany, and New York. He experi- 
mented with his pen as a means of diversion rather than as 
a settled occupation ; he had not yet made up his mind to 
take authorship seriously as a profession. Among the works 
of these nine years are his writings in Salmagundi, a period- 
ical the purpose of which was "to instruct the young, reform 
the old, correct the town, and castigate the age." Salma- 
gundi ^Nd^s astonishingly popular, considering the careless air 
of superiority which marked its utterances. In this period- 
ical Irving was associated with his brother William and with 
his friend Paulding. In 1809 he published in Philadelphia 
A History of New York, by Diedrich Knickerbocker, his 
most original work. It won him instant popularity as an 
author. It had no value as an accurate picture of the Dutch 
in New York, but it came in the course of time somehow to 
be considered a faithful delineation of early Dutch manners. 
Its all-pervasive humor has not yet lost its savor. He wrote 
nothing else of importance during this period, but for the 
most part spent his time easily in social pleasures, though 
he gave some slight attention to the business affairs of his 
brothers. In 18 15 he sailed again for Europe, where he 
remained seventeen years. The death of Miss Matilda 
Hoffman, whom he loved, may perhaps account for the 
checking of his literary effort in the years that followed the 
publication of the History of New York. 

After his arrival in England, he struggled during the next 
two or three years with business matters, mainly in London, 
doing his best to assist his invalid brother, Peter, in the 
reverses which overtook the commercial house in which the 
brothers were partners. The time passed drearily. " His 
letters for two years are burdened with harassments in 
uncongenial details and unsuccessful struggles." He had 
no more liking for the details of business life than had 



XX INTRODUCTION 

Nathaniel Hawthorne, who, it will be recalled, made his 
escape about twenty-five years later from his position in 
the Boston Custom House as from a prison. 

In August, 1818, after Washington and Peter Irving had 
taken advantage of the bankruptcy law in London, Wash- 
ington, at the age of thirty-five, settled definitely on litera- 
ture as a profession. From now until 1826, he wrote whenever 
he was strong enough and was in the mood, completing in this 
time several of his most characteristically humorous works. 
His Sketch-Book was published both in America and in Eng- 
land. From the publisher, Murray, he received two hundred 
pounds for the English copyright. Everywhere he was wel- 
comed with honor. To his joy he became the breadwinner 
of the Irving brothers. He, who before had been merely the 
dabbler, was now recognized by the family as the effective 
worker. His travels at this period included journeys to Dres- 
den and Paris with somewhat prolonged stays. Carlyle says 
that Irving was a good deal of a lion in Paris. His repu- 
tation reached everywhere. The Edinburgh Review hailed 
him as a writer of " great purity and beauty of diction." All 
English people were reading his latest book. In Italy, an 
English lady and her daughter stopped in one of the galler- 
ies before a bust of General Washington. " Who was this 
Washington?" asked the daughter. "Why, the author of 
the Sketch-Book, of course," answered the mother. Irving's 
friends and acquaintances included most of the well-known 
English writers of the early nineteenth century ; Sir Walter 
Scott was a particularly enthusiastic admirer. After the 
Sketch-Book came, in 1822, Bracebridge Hall, which added 
to living's English reputation. In 1824 there was pubhshed 
a collection of short sketches, Tales of a Traveller, in which 
some of Irving's best work appeared; certainly the " artistic " 
touch which he himself felt to be here is present, and makes 
this group of little stories deservedly popular to-day. Still, 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

some of the critics began to ask for something of a new 
style from Irving. 

This the distinguished author, always sensitive to the 
slightest adverse criticism, undertook to furnish in his His- 
tory of the Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus, for the 
writing of which he qualified himself thoroughly by a resi- 
dence at Madrid from February, 1826, to September, 1829. 
The publisher Murray paid Irving thirty-one hundred and 
fifty pounds for the English copyright of the life of Columbus, 
which was published in February, 1828. Other books dur- 
ing this most productive period were Chronicle of the Con- 
quest of Granada and Voyages of the Companions of Columbus. 
Irving wrote also The Alhambra at this time, but it was 
not published till later. The volume on the conquest of 
Granada brought the author two thousand guineas. The 
letters during this Madrid residence reveal the customary 
delightful social relations into which Irving entered wher- 
ever he happened to be, and make clear how completely 
and with what zest the author entered into the spirit of 
old Spain. 

Urged by his friends, Irving accepted the appointment of 
Secretary of Legation to the Court of St. James and once 
more returned to London. Oxford conferred upon him the 
degree of D.C.L., but modest Irving never made use of 
this adornment. In the course of his residence in England 
as Secretary of Legation, he appears to have taken more 
interest in politics than ever before ; he wanted to know 
the latest news regarding political events in all countries 
and watched the newspapers eagerly for the latest develop- 
ments. When the Reform Bill was up for consideration in 
Parliament he earnestly hoped it would pass. Two literary 
incidents shortly before his return to America were a second 
visit to Stratford and a last talk with Sir Walter Scott, who 
said to him, " The times are changed, my good fellow, since 



xxii INTRODUCTION 



we went over the Eildon Hills together. It is all nonsense 
to tell a man that his mind is not affected when his body is 
in this state." It was not long before the valiant struggle of 
Scott against disease had ended. Irving, however, returned 
to America before the death of his generous admirer and 
friend. 

In May, 1832, Irving was royally welcomed to New York. 
Public dinners were given in his honor; authors, business 
men, and men prominent in political life vied with one another 
in paying tribute to the most distinguished American author 
of the day, who had been absent from his native country 
seventeen years, during which he had won international 
reputation. Irving's mind had been for some time set upon 
a return to New York. He longed for a home in which he 
could gather his brothers and their children in domestic 
comfort and happiness. Soon he chose the " Sunnyside " 
farm which is now the goal for literary pilgrimages. At 
Sunnyside he brought together the Irving family, and Sunny- 
side became, in the words of Charles Dudley Warner, " the 
dearest spot on earth to him; it was his residence, from 
which he tore himself with reluctance, and to which he 
returned with eager longing ; and here, surrounded by rela- 
tives whom he loved, he passed nearly all the remainder 
of his years, in as happy conditions, I think, as a bachelor 
ever enjoyed." He took the greatest pleasure in enlarg- 
ing the buildings, in improving the grounds, in making the 
house and the surroundings more and more comfortable 
and beautiful. In fact, because he spent so much money 
in this agreeable work and because he never seems to have 
known in just what enterprises it was well to invest his 
earnings, he had to devote himself to writing all the rest of 
his life. 

Among the works that brought him substantial sums 
after his return to America were Tour on the Prairies, the 



1 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

outcome of an extended journey as far west as Arkansas, 
Recollectio7is of Abbotsford and JVewstead Abbey, Legends of the 
Conquest of Spain, Astoria, Oliver Goids?nith, and Mahomet 
and his Successors. It will be noticed that, although these 
are noteworthy volumes, there is no work here by which 
Irving is popularly known. The time of his most distinc- 
tive productiveness was nearly over; there remained only 
one notable book to complete, his Life of Washi7igton. 
This was long delayed. 

In accordance with his ingrained aversion to party honors, 
he had rejected an offer of the secretaryship of the Navy 
under President Van Buren, but permitted himself to be 
appointed, in 1842, minister to Spain. This honor he accepted 
as a recognition by his countrymen of his contributions to 
the history of Spain. The nomination was made at the 
suggestion of Daniel Webster, was heartily supported by 
Henry Clay, and was confirmed by the votes of both parties. 
His residence abroad at this time lasted till 1846, when he 
returned for good. His services as a diplomatist in a quiet 
way were most effective. 

Little needs to be said regarding the last happy years at 
Sunnyside. If the student is wont to feel from reading the 
lives of many English authors that the lot of a writer — as 
in the cases of Goldsmith, Johnson, Burns, and even Scott 
— is at best but a hard struggle, ended with ease and com- 
fort far in the distance, certainly it is a refreshing contrast 
to learn of the happy domestic tranquillity of living's last 
years at Sunnyside. He was admired by his fellow-citizens, 
adored by his kin. His strength was failing, yet he kept 
writing, and he had the triumphant pleasure of seeing the 
Life of Washington well received. He died at Sunnyside, 
November 28, 1859, in the seventy-seventh year of a happy, 
perhaps not virile, but unquestionably productive and hon- 
orable life. 



XXIV 



INTRODUCTION 



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INTRODUCTION xxix 



III. NOTE CONCERNING THE TOPICS AND 
QUESTIONS 

The topics and questions in this edition are intended primarily to 
furnish a basis for lively and entertaining discussions in class. Very 
likely not every pupil will be able to answer every question or discuss 
every topic. Yet it is thought that by topics such as these all the pupils 
will gain a thorough knowledge of the contents of Irving's Oliver Gold- 
smith, and that at the same time they will have pleasure from the study. 
There is no reason why oral and written composition based on a charm- 
ing piece of literature like the Oliver Goldsmith should *not be entered 
upon by the preparatory-school student with enthusiasm, and continued 
throughout with cumulative zeal. Though the material offered for the 
study will be found most satisfactory for class use where one pupil will 
be familiar with the subject-matter of one topic, another pupil with that 
of another topic, the questions and topics are such that a student might 
read the book by himself and find sufficient direction for a thorough and 
enjoyable reading. 

In the study of these topics and questions, it is hoped that the pupil 
will have access to at least the following books : — Goldsmith's com- 
plete works ; H. A. Dobson's Life of Goldsmith ; Boswell's Life of fohn- 
son ; Histories of English and American Literature ; Encyclopaedia or 
Century Dictionary of Names ; a biographical dictionary, as for example 
Lippincott's ; The Life and Letters of Irving, by Pierre M. Irving; and 
Irving's complete works. If, in addition, the student can have the pleas- 
ure of consulting Irving's principal sources, he will count himself fortu- 
nate. These sources are The Lfe of Oliver Goldsmith, by James Prior, 
in two volumes (London, John Murray, 1837) ; and The Life and Adven- 
tures of^ Oliver Goldsmith, by John Forster, in four books (London, 
Bradbury and Evans, 1848). Unfortunately not many libraries contain 
these interesting old books, though later editions are sometimes available. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

A BIOGRAPHY 
By WASHINGTON IRVING 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE 

In the course of a revised edition of my works I have 
come to a biographical sketch of Goldsmith, published 
several years since. It was written hastily, as introductory 
to a selection from his writings ; and, though the facts con- 
tained in it were collected from various sources, I was chiefly 
indebted for them to the voluminous work of Mr. James Prior, 
who had collected and collated the most minute particulars 
of the poet's history with unwearied research and scrupulous 
fidelity ; but had rendered them, as I thought, in a form too 
cumbrous and overlaid with details and disquisitions, and 
matters uninteresting to the general reader. 

When I was about of late to revise my biographical sketch, 
preparatory to republication, a volume was put into my 
hands, recently given to the public by Mr, John Forster, of 
the Inner Temple, who, likewise availing himself of the labors 
of the indefatigable Prior, and of a few new lights since 
evolved, has produced a biography of the poet, executed 
with a spirit, a feeling, a grace, and an eloquence, that leave 
nothing to be desired. Indeed it would have been presump- 
tion in me to undertake the subject after it had been thus 
felicitously treated, did I not stand committed by my pre- 
vious sketch. That sketch now appeared too meagre and 
insufficient to satisfy public demand; yet it had to take its 
place in the revised series of my works unless something 
more satisfactory could be substituted. Under these cir- 
cumstances I have again taken up the subject, and gone into 
it with more fulness than formerly, omitting none of the 
facts which I considered illustrative of the life and character 

3 



4 AUTHOR'S PREFACE 

of the poet, and giving them in as graphic a style as I 
could command. Still the hurried manner in which I have 
had to do this amidst the pressure of other claims on my 
attention, and with the press dogging at my heels, has pre- 
vented me from giving some parts of the subject the thor- 
ough handling I could have wished. Those who would like 
to see it treated still more at large, with the addition of 
critical disquisitions and the advantage of collateral facts, 
would do well to refer themselves to Mr. Prior's circum- 
stantial volumes, or to the elegant and discursive pages of 
Mr. Forster. 

For my own part, I can only regret my shortcomings in 
what to me is a labor of love ; for it is a tribute of gratitude 
to the memory of an author whose writings were the delight 
of my childhood, and have been a source of enjoyment 
to me throughout life ; and to whom, of all others, I may 
address the beautiful apostrophe of Dante to Virgil, — 

Tu se' lo mio maestro, e '1 mio autore : 
Tu se' solo colui, da cu' io tolsi 
Lo bello stile, che m' ha fatto onore. 



W. I. 



SUNNYSIDE, August I, 1849. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH 



CHAPTER I 

Birth and Parentage — Characteristics of the Goldsmith Race — Poetical Birth- 
place — Goblin House — Scenes of Boyhood — Lissoy — Picture of a Coun- 
try Parson — Goldsmith's Schoolmistress — Byrne, the Village Schoolmaster 
— Goldsmith's Hornpipe and Epigram — Uncle Contarine — School Studies 
and School Sports — Mistakes of a Night. 

There are few writers for whom the reader feels such 
personal kindness as for Oliver Goldsmith, for few have so 
eminently possessed the magic gift of identifying themselves 
with their writings. We read his character in every page, 
and grow into familiar intimacy with him as we read. The 5 
artless benevolence that beams throughout his works ; the 
whimsical, yet amiable views of human life and human 
nature ; the unforced humor, blending so happily with good 
feeUng and good sense, and singularly dashed at times with 
a pleasing melancholy ; even the very nature of his mellow, lo 
and flowing, and softly-tinted style, — all seem to bespeak 
his moral as well as his intellectual qualities, and make us 
love the man at the same time that we admire the author. 
While the productions of writers of loftier pretension and 
more sounding names are suffered to moulder on our shelves, 15 
those of Goldsmith are cherished and laid in our bosoms. 
We do not quote them with ostentation, but they mingle 
with our minds, sweeten our tempers, and harmonize our 
thoughts ; they put us in good-humor with ourselves and 
with the world, and in so doing they make us happier and 20 
better men. 

5 



6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

An acquaintance with the private biography of Goldsmith 
lets us into the secret of his gifted pages. We there dis- 
cover them to be little more than transcripts of his own 
heart and picturings of his fortunes. There he shows him- 
5 self the same kind, artless, good-humored, excursive, sensible, 
whimsical, intelligent being that he appears in his writings. 
Scarcely an adventure or character is given in his works 
that may not be traced to his own parti-colored story. 
Many of his most ludicrous scenes and ridiculous incidents 

10 have been drawn from his own blunders and mischances, 
and he seems really to have been buffeted into almost every 
maxim imparted by him for the instruction of his reader. 

Oliver Goldsmith was born on the loth of November, 
1728, at the hamlet of Pallas, or Pallasmore, county of Long- 

15 ford, in Ireland. He sprang from a respectable, but by no 
means a thrifty stock. Some famiHes seem to inherit kind- 
liness and incompetency, and to hand down virtue and pov- 
erty from generation to generation. Such was the case 
with the Goldsmiths. "They were always," according to 

20 their own accounts, " a strange family ; they rarely acted 
like other people ; their hearts were in the right place, but 
their heads seemed to be doing anything but what they 
ought." — " They were remarkable," says another statement, 
" for their worth, but of no cleverness in the ways of the 

25 world." Oliver Goldsmith will be found faithfully to inherit 
the virtues and weaknesses of his race. 

His father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, with hereditary 
improvidence, married when very young and very poor, and 
starved along for several years on a small country curacy 

30 and the assistance of his wife's friends. His whole income, 
eked out by the produce of some fields which he farmed, and 
of some occasional duties performed for his wife's uncle, the 
rector of an adjoining parish, did not exceed forty pounds. 

" And passing rich with forty pounds a year." 



POETICAL BIRTHPLACE 7 

He inhabited an old, half rustic mansion, that stood on a 
rising ground in a rough, lonely part of the country, over- 
looking a low tract occasionally flooded by the river Inny. 
In this house Goldsmith was born, and it was a birth- 
place worthy of a poet ; for, by all accounts, it was haunted 5 
ground. A tradition handed down among the neighboring 
peasantry states that, in after-years, the house, remaining for 
some time untenanted, went to decay, the roof fell in, and 
it became so lonely and forlorn as to be a resort for the 
" good people " or fairies, who in Ireland are supposed to 10 
delight in old, crazy, deserted mansions for their midnight 
revels. All attempts to repair it were in vain ; the fairies 
battled stoutly to maintain possession. A huge misshapen 
hobgoblin used to bestride the house every evening with an 
immense pair of jackboots, which, in his efforts at hard rid- 15 
ing, he would thrust through the roof, kicking to pieces all 
the work of the preceding day. The house was therefore 
left to its fate, and went to ruin. 

Such is the popular tradition about Goldsmith's birthplace. 
About two years after his birth a change came over the cir- 20 
cumstances of his father. By the death of his wife's uncle 
he succeeded to the rectory of Kilkenny West ; and, aban- 
doning the old goblin mansion, he removed to Lissoy, in 
the county of Westmeath, where he occupied a farm of 
seventy acres, situated on the skirts of that pretty little 25 
village. 

This was the scene of Goldsmith's boyhood, the little 
world whence he drew many of those pictures, rural and 
domestic, whimsical and touching, which abound throughout 
his works, and which appeal so eloquently both to the fancy 30 
and the heart. Lissoy is confidently cited as the original 
of his '^Auburn" in the "Deserted Village"; his father's 
establishment, a mixture of farm and parsonage, furnished 
hints, it is said, for the rural economy of the " Vicar of 



8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Wakefield"; and his father himself, with his learned sim- 
plicity, his guileless wisdom, his amiable piety, and utter 
ignorance of the world, has been exquisitely portrayed in 
the worthy Dr. Primrose. Let us pause for a moment, and 
5 draw from Goldsmith's writings one or two of those pic- 
tures which, under feigned names, represent his father and 
his family, and the happy fireside of his childish days. 

" My father," says the " Man in Black," who, in some 
respects, is a counterpart of Goldsmith himself, — "my father, 

lo the, younger son of a good family, was possessed of a small 
living in the church. His education was above his for- 
tune, and his generosity greater than his education. Poor 
as he was, he had his flatterers poorer than himself : for 
every dinner he gave them, they returned him an equivalent 

15 in praise; and this was all he wanted. The same ambition 
that actuates a monarch at the head of his army, influenced 
my father at the head of his table ; he told the story of the 
ivy-tree, and that was laughed at; he repeated the jest of 
the two scholars and one pair of breeches, and the company 

20 laughed at that ; but the story of Taffy in the sedan-chair 
was sure to set the table in a roar. Thus his pleasure 
increased in proportion to the pleasure he gave ; he loved 
all the world, and he fancied all the world loved him. 

" As his fortune was but small, he lived up to the very 

25 extent of it : he had no intention of leaving his children 
money, for that was dross ; he resolved they should have 
learning, for learning, he used to observe, was better than 
silver or gold. For this purpose he undertook to instruct 
us himself, and took as much care to form our morals as to 

30 improve our understanding. We were told that universal 
benevolence was what first cemented society: we were taught 
to consider all the wants of mankind as our own ; to regard 
the human face divine with affection and esteem ; he wound 
us up to be mere machines of pity, and rendered us incapable 



HIS FATHER 9 

of withstanding the slightest impulse made either by real or 
fictitious distress. In a word, we were perfectly instructed 
in the art of giving away thousands before we were taught 
the necessary qualifications of getting a farthing." 

In the " Deserted Village " we have another picture of 5 
his father and his father's fireside : — 

" His house was known to all the vagrant train, 
He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ; 
The long-remembered beggar was his guest. 
Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast; 10 

The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, 
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd; 
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 
Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away ; 

Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, 15 

Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won. 
Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow. 
And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 
Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 
His pity gave ere charity began." 20 

The family of the worthy pastor consisted of five sons and 
three daughters. Henry, the eldest, was the good man's 
pride and hope, and he tasked his slender means to the 
utmost in educating him for a learned and distinguished 
career. Oliver was the second son, and seven years younger 25 
than Henry, who was the guide and protector of his child- 
hood, and to whom' he was most tenderly attached through- 
out life. 

Oliver's education began when he was about three years 
old ; that is to say, he was gathered under the wings of one 30 
of those good old motherly dames, found in every village, 
who cluck together the whole callow brood of the neighbor- 
hood, to teach them their letters and keep them out of harm's 
way. Mistress Elizabeth Delap, for that was her name, 
flourished in this capacity for upward of fifty years, and it 35 



lO OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

was the pride and boast of her dedining days, when nearly 
ninety years of age, that she was the first that had put 
a book (doubtless a hornbook) into Goldsmith's hands. 
Apparently he did not much profit by it, for she confessed 
5 he was one of the dullest boys she had ever dealt with, 
insomuch that she had sometimes doubted whether it was 
possible to make anything of him : a common case with 
imaginative children, who are apt to be beguiled from the 
dry abstractions of elementary study by the picturings of 

10 the fancy. 

At six years of age he passed into the hands of the 
village schoolmaster, one Thomas (or, as he was commonly 
and irreverently named, Paddy) Byrne, a capital tutor for a 
poet. He had been educated for a pedagogue, but had 

15 enlisted in the army, served abroad during the wars of Queen 
Anne's time, and risen to the rank of quartermaster of a 
regiment in Spain. At the return of peace, having no longer 
exercise for the sword, he resumed the ferule, and drilled 
the urchin populace of Lissoy. Goldsmith is supposed to 

20 have had him and his school in view in the following sketch 
in his " Deserted Village " : — 

" Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, 

With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, 

There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, * 
25 The village master taught his little school; 

A man severe he was, and stern to view, 

I knew him well, and every truant knew : 

Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace 

The day's disasters in his morning face ; 
30 Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee 

At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 

Full well the busy whisper circling round, 

Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd : 

Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, 
35 The love he bore to learning was in fault ; 

The village all declared how much he knew, 



FIRST ATTEMPTS AT VERSE II 

'T was certain he could write, and cipher too ; 

Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, 

And e'en the story ran that he could gauge : 

In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill, 

For, e'en though vanquished, he could argue still; 5 

While words of learned length and thund'ring sound 

Amazed the gazing rustics, ranged around, — 

And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 

That one small head could carry all he knew." 

There are certain whimsical traits in the character of lo 
Byrne, not given in the foregoing sketch. He was fond of 
talking of his vagabond wanderings in foreign lands, and 
had brought with him from the wars a world of campaigning 
stories, of which he was generally the hero, and which he 
would deal forth to his wondering scholars when he ought 15 
to have been teaching them their lessons. These travellers' 
tales had a powerful effect upon the vivid imagination of 
Goldsmith, and awakened an unconquerable passion for 
wandering and seeking adventure. 

Byrne was, moreover, of a romantic vein, and exceedingly 20 
superstitious. He was deeply versed in the fairy super- 
stitions which abound in Ireland, all which he professed 
implicitly to believe. Under his tuition Goldsmith soon 
became almost as great a proficient in fairy lore. From this 
branch of good-for-nothing knowledge, his studies, by an 25 
easy transition, extended to the histories of robbers, pirates, 
smugglers, and the whole race of Irish rogues and rapparees. 
Everything, in short, that savored of romance, fable, and 
adventure, was congenial to his poetic mind, and took instant 
root there; but the slow plants of useful knowledge were 30 
apt to be overrun, if not choked, by the weeds of his quick 
imagination. 

Another trait of his motley preceptor, Byrne, was a dispo- 
sition to dabble in poetry, and this likewise was caught by 
his pupil. Before he was eight years old, Goldsmith had 35 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

contracted a habit of scribbling verses on small scraps of 
paper, which, in a little while, he would throw into the fire. 
A few of these sibylline leaves, however, were rescued from 
the flames and conveyed to his mother. Th.e good woman 
5 read them with a mother's delight, and saw at once that her 
son was a genius and a poet. From that time she beset her 
husband with solicitations to give the boy an education suit- 
able to his talents. The worthy man was already straitened 
by the costs of instruction of his eldest son Henry, and had 

lo intended to bring his second son up to a trade ; but the 
mother would listen to no such thing ; as usual, her influence 
prevailed, and Oliver, instead of being instructed in some 
humble, but cheerful and gainful handicraft, was devoted to 
poverty and the Muse. 

15 A severe attack of the small-pox caused him to be taken 
from under the care of his story-telling preceptor, Byrne. 
His malady had nearly proved fatal, and^his face remained 
pitted through life. On his recovery he was placed under 
the charge of the Rev. Mr. Griffin, schoolmaster of Elphin, 

20 in Roscommon, and became an inmate in the house of 
his uncle, John Goldsmith, Esq., of Ballyoughter, in that 
vicinity. He now entered upon studies of a higher order, 
but without making any uncommon progress. Still a care- 
less, easy facility of disposition, an amusing eccentricity of 

25 manners, and a vein of quiet and peculiar humor, rendered 
him a general favorite, and a trifling incident soon induced 
his uncle's family to concur in his mother's opinion of his 
genius. 

A number of young folks had assembled at his uncle's 

30 to dance. One of the company, named Cummings, played 
on the violin. In the course of the evening Oliver under- 
took a hornpipe. His short and clumsy figure, and his face 
pitted and discolored with the small-pox, rendered him a 
ludicrous figure in the eyes of the musician, who made 



TRANSFERRED TO NEW SCHOOLS 13 

merry at his expense, dubbing him his little vEsop. Gold- 
smith was nettled by the jest, and, stopping short in the 
hornpipe, exclaimed, — 

" Our herald hath proclaimed this saying, 
See ^sop dancing, and his monkey playing." 5 

The repartee was thought wonderful for a boy of nine 
years old, and Oliver became forthwith the wit and the bright 
genius of the family. It was thought a pity he should not 
receive the same advantages with his elder brother Henry, 
who had been sent to the University ; and, as his father's 10 
circumstances would not afford it, several of his relatives, 
spurred on by the representations of his mother, agreed to 
contribute towards the expense. The greater part, how- 
ever, was borne by his uncle, the Rev. Thomas Contarine. 
This worthy man had been the college companion of Bishop 15 
Berkeley, and was possessed of moderate means, holding 
the living of Carrick-on-Shannon. He had married the sister 
of Goldsmith's father, but was now a widower, with an only 
child, a daughter, named Jane. Contarine was a kind-hearted 
man, with a generosity beyond his means. He took Gold- 20 
smith into favor from his infancy; his house was open to 
him during the holidays ; his daughter Jane, two years older 
than the poet, was his early playmate ; and uncle Contarine 
continued to the last one of his most active, unwavering, and 
generous friends. 25 

Fitted out in a great measure by this considerate relative, 
OHver was now transferred to schools of a higher order, to 
prepare him for the University ; first to one at Athlone, kept 
by the Rev. Mr. Campbell, and, at the end of two years, to 
one at Edgeworthstown, under the superintendence of the 30 
Rev. Patrick Hughes. 

Even at these schools his proficiency does appear not to 
have been brilliant. He was indolent and careless, however, 



14 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

rather than dull, and, on the whole, appears to have been 
well thought of by his teachers. In his studies he inclined 
tovv^ards the Latin poets and historians ; relished Ovid and 
Horace, and delighted in Livy. He exercised himself with 
5 pleasure in reading and translating Tacitus, and was brought 
to pay attention to style in his compositions by a reproof 
from his brother Henry, to whom he had written brief and 
confused letters, and who told him in reply, that, if he had 
but little to say, to endeavor to say that little well. 

TO The career of his brother Henry at the University was 
enough to stimulate him to exertion. He seemed to be 
realizing all his father's hopes, and was winning collegiate 
honors that the good man considered indicative of his future 
success in life. 

15 In the meanwhile, Oliver, if not distinguished among his 
teachers, was popular among his schoolmates. He had a 
thoughtless generosity extremely captivating to young hearts: 
his temper was quick and sensitive, and easily offended; 
but his anger was momentary, and it was impossible for 

20 him to harbor resentment. He was the leader of all boy- 
ish sports and athletic amusements, especially ball-playing, 
and he was foremost in all mischievous pranks. Many 
years afterward, an old man. Jack Fitzimmons, one of the 
directors of the sports, and keeper of the ball-court at Bally- 

25 mahon, used to boast of having been schoolmate of '' Noll 
Goldsmith," as he called him, and would dwell with vain- 
glory on one of their exploits, in robbing the orchard of 
Tirlicken, an old family residence of Lord Annaly. The 
exploit, however, had nearly involved disastrous conse- 

30 quences ; for the crew of juvenile depredators were cap- 
tured, like Shakspeare and his deer-stealing colleagues ; 
and nothing but the respectability of Goldsmith's connec- 
tions saved him from the punishment that would have 
awaited more plebeian deUnquents. 



MISTAKES OF A NIGHT 15 

An amusing incident is related as occurring in Gold- 
smith's last journey homeward from Edgeworthstown. His 
father's house was about twenty miles distant ; the road lay 
through a rough country, impassable for carriages. Gold- 
smith procured a horse for the journey, and a friend fur- 5 
nished him with a guinea for travelling expenses. He was 
but a stripling of sixteen, and being thus suddenly mounted 
on horseback, with money in his pocket, it is no wonder 
that his head was turned. He determined to play the 
man, and to spend his money in independent traveller's 10 
style. Accordingly, instead of pushing directly for home, 
he halted for the night at the little town of Ardagh, and, 
accosting the first person he met, inquired, with somewhat 
of a consequential air, for the best house in the place. 
Unluckily, the person he had accosted was one Kelly, a 15 
notorious wag, who was quartered in the family of one 
Mr. Featherstone, a gentleman of fortune. Amused with 
the self-consequence of the stripling, and willing to play off 
a practical joke at his expense, he directed him to what was 
literally "the best house in the place," namely, the family 20 
mansion of Mr. Featherstone. Goldsmith accordingly rode 
up to what he supposed to be an inn, ordered his horse to be 
taken to the stable, walked into the parlor, seated himself 
by the fire, and demanded what he could have for supper. 
On ordinary occasions he was diffident and even awkward in 25 
his manners, but here he was "at ease in his inn," and felt 
called upon to show his manhood and enact the experienced 
traveller. His person was by no means calculated to play 
off his pretensions, for he was short and thick, with a pock- 
marked face, and an air and carriage by no means of a dis- 3° 
tinguished cast. The owner of the house, however, soon 
discovered his whimsical mistake, and, being a man of humor, 
determined to indulge it, especially as he accidentally learned 
that this intruding guest was the son of an old acquaintance. 



l6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Accordingly, Goldsmith was " fooled to the top of his 
bent," and permitted to have full sway throughout the 
evening. Never was schoolboy more elated. When sup- 
per was served, he most condescendingly insisted that the 
5 landlord, his wife and daughter should partake, and ordered 
a bottle of wine to crown the repast and benefit the house. 
His last flourish was on going to bed, when he gave espe- 
cial orders to have a hot cake at breakfast. His confusion 
and dismay, on discovering the next morning that he had 

lo been swaggering in this free and easy way in the house of 
a private gentleman, may be readily conceived. True to his 
habit of turning the events of his life to literary account, we 
find this chapter of ludicrous blunders and cross-purposes 
dramatized many years afterward in his admirable comedy 

15 of " She Stoops to Conquer, or the Mistakes of a Night." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. How does the opening paragraph differ from the kind of opening 
usually adopted in school papers for a short biographical sketch ? 

2. Goldsmith's schooling. 

3. Mention four eighteenth-century writers of loftier pretensions 
than Oliver Goldsmith. 

4. What writings of Goldsmith are most frequently quoted ? 

5. How far may the inmost details of a distinguished Hterary man's 
life be revealed with propriety ? 

6. From the details given in Chapter I, show how Byrne was a good 
tutor for a boy inclined to poetry. 

7. Explain why Goldsmith was popular among his schoolmates. 
Do the same characteristics which made him popular usually make a 
student popular now .'' 



CHAPTER II 

Improvident Marriages in the Goldsmith Family — Goldsmith at the Univer- 
sity — Situation of a Sizer — Tyranny of Wilder, the Tutor— Pecuniary 
Straits — Street-Ballads — College Riot — Gallows Walsh — College Prize 
— A Dance interrupted. 

While Oliver v/as making his way somewhat negligently 
through the schools, his elder brother Henry was rejoicing 
his father's heart by his career at the University. He soon 
distinguished himself at the examinations, and obtained a 
scholarship in 1743. This is a collegiate distinction which 5 
serves as a stepping-stone in any of the learned professions, 
and which leads to advancement in the University should the 
individual choose to remain there. His father now trusted 
that he would push forward for that comfortable provision, 
a fellowship, and thence to higher dignities and emoluments. 10 
Henry, however, had the improvidence or the '' unworldli- 
ness " of his race : returning to the country during the suc- 
ceeding vacation, he married for love, relinquished, of course, 
all his collegiate prospects and advantages, set up a school 
in his father's neighborhood, and buried his talents and 15 
acquirements for the remainder of his life in a curacy of 
forty pounds a year. 

Another matrimonial event occurred not long afterward 
in the Goldsmith family, to disturb the equanimity of its 
worthy head. This was the clandestine marriage of his 20 
daughter Catherine with a young gentleman of the name of 
Hodson, who had been confided to the care of her brother 
Henry to complete his studies. As the youth was of 
wealthy parentage, it was thought a lucky match for the 
Goldsmith family ; but the tidings of the event stung the 25 

17 



l8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

bride's father to the soul. Proud of his integrity, and 
jealous of that good name which was his chief possession, 
he saw himself and his family subjected to the degrading 
suspicion of having abused a trust reposed in them to pro- 
5 mote a mercenary match. In the first transports of his 
feelings, he is said to have uttered a wish that his daughter 
might never have a child to bring like shame and sorrow on 
her head. The hasty wish, so contrary to the usual benig- 
nity of the man, was recalled and repented of almost as 

10 soon as uttered ; but it was considered baleful in its effects 
by the superstitious neighborhood ; for, though his daughter 
bore three children, they all died before her. 

A more effectual measure was taken by Mr. Goldsmith 
to ward off the apprehended imputation, but one which im- 

15 posed a heavy burden on his family. This was to furnish a 
marriage portion of four hundred pounds, that his daughter 
might not be said to have entered her husband's family 
empty-handed. To raise the sum in cash was impossible ; 
but he assigned to Mr. Hodson his little farm and the 

20 income of his tithes until the marriage portion should be 
paid. In the mean time, as his living did not amount to 
^200 per annum, he had to practise the strictest economy 
to pay off gradually this heavy tax incurred by his nice 
sense of honor. 

25 The first of his family to feel the effects of this economy 
was Oliver. The time had now arrived for him to be sent 
to the University; and, accordingly, on the nth June, 1745, 
when seventeen years of age, he entered Trinity College, 
Dublin ; but his father was no longer able to place him there 

30 as a pensioner, as he had done his eldest son Henry ; he was 
obliged, therefore, to enter him as a sizer, or " poor scholar." 
He was lodged in one of the top rooms adjoining the library 
of the building, numbered 35, where it is said his name may 
still be seen, scratched by himself upon a window-frame. 



INDIGNITIES OF A "POOR STUDENT" 19 

A student of this class is taught and boarded gratuitously, 
and has to pay but a small sum for his room. It is expected, 
in return for these advantages, that he will be a diligent 
student, and render himself useful in a variety of ways. In 
Trinity College, at the time of Goldsmith's admission, sev- 5 
eral derogatory, and, indeed, menial offices were exacted from 
the sizer, as if the college sought to indemnify itself for con- 
ferring benefits by inflicting indignities. He was obliged 
to sweep part of the courts in the morning; to carry up 
the dishes from the kitchen to the fellows' table, and to 10 
wait in the hall until that body had dined. His very dress 
marked the inferiority of the "poor student" to his happier 
classmates. It was a black gown of coarse stuff without 
sleeves, and a plain black cloth cap without a tassel. We 
can conceive nothing more odious and ill-judged than these 15 
distinctions, which attached the idea of degradation to pov- 
erty, and placed the indigent youth of merit below the worth- 
less minion of fortune. They were calculated to wound and 
irritate the noble mind, and to render the base mind baser. 

Indeed, the galling effect of these servile tasks upon 20 
youths of proud spirits and quick sensibilities became at 
length too notorious to be disregarded. About fifty years 
since, on a Trinity Sunday, a number of persons were 
assembled to witness the college ceremonies ; and as a sizer 
was carrying up a dish of meat to the fellows' table, a burly 25 
citizen in the crowd made some sneering observation on the 
servility of his office. Stung to the quick, the high-spirited 
youth instantly flung the dish and its contents at the head 
of the sneerer. The sizer was sharply reprimanded for this 
outbreak of wounded pride, but the degrading task was 30 
from that day forward very properly consigned to menial 
hands. 

It was with the utmost repugnance that Goldsmith entered 
college in this capacity. His shy and sensitive nature was 



20 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

affected by the inferior station he was doomed to hold 
among his gay and opulent fellow-students, and he became, 
at times, moody and despondent. A recollection of these 
early mortifications induced him, in after-years, most strongly 
5 to dissuade his brother Henry, the clergyman, from sending 
a son to college on a like footing. " If he has ambition, 
strong passions, and an exquisite sensibility of contempt, do 
not send him there, unless you have no other trade for him 
except your own." 

lo To add to his annoyances, the fellow of the college who 
had the peculiar control of his studies, the Rev. Theaker 
Wilder, was a man of violent and capricious temper, and 
of diametrically opposite tastes. The tutor was devoted to 
the exact sciences ; Goldsmith was for the classics. Wilder 

15 endeavored to force his favorite studies upon the student 
by harsh means, suggested by his own coarse and savage 
nature. He abused him in presence of the class as igno- 
rant and stupid; ridiculed him as awkward and ugly, and 
at times in the transports of his temper indulged in personal 

20 violence. The effect was to aggravate a passive distaste into 
a positive aversion. Goldsmith was loud in expressing his 
contempt for mathematics and his dislike of ethics and 
logic; and the prejudices thus imbibed continued through 
life. Mathematics he always pronounced a science to which 

25 the meanest intellects were competent. 

A truer cause of this distaste for the severer studies may 
probably be found in his natural indolence and his love of 
convivial pleasures. " I was a lover of mirth, good-humor, 
and even sometimes of fun," said he, "from my childhood." 

30 He sang a good song, was a boon companion, and could not 
resist any temptation to social enjoyment. He endeavored 
to persuade himself that learning and dulness went hand in 
hand, and that genius was not to be put in harness. Even 
in riper years, when the consciousness of his own deficiencies 



STREET-BALLADS 21 

ought to have convinced him of the importance of early study, 
he speaks slightingly of college honors. 

" A lad," says he, " whose passions are not strong enough 
in youth to mislead him from that path of science which his 
tutors, and not his inclination, have chalked out, by four or 5 
five years' perseverance will probably obtain every advantage 
and honor his college can bestow, I would compare the 
man whose youth has been thus passed in the tranquillity 
of dispassionate prudence, to liquors that never ferment, 
and, consequently, continue always muddy." 10 

The death of his worthy father, which took place early 
in 1747, rendered Goldsmith's situation at college extremely 
irksome. His mother was left with little more than the 
means of providing for the wants of her household, and was 
unable to furnish him any remittances. He would have 15 
been compelled, therefore, to leave college, had it not been 
for the occasional contributions of friends, the foremost 
among whom was his generous and warm-hearted uncle 
Contarine. Still these supplies were so scanty and preca- 
rious, that in the intervals between them he was put to great 20 
straits. He had two college associates from whom he would 
occasionally borrow small sums ; one was an early school- 
mate, by the name of Beatty; the other a cousin, and the 
chosen companion of his frolics, Robert (or rather Rob) 
Bryanton, of Ballymulvey House, near Ballymahon. When 25 
these casual supplies failed him, he was more than once 
obliged to raise funds for his immediate wants by pawning 
his books. At times he sank into despondency, but he had 
what he termed " a knack at hoping," which soon buoyed 
him up again. He began now to resort to his poetical vein 30 
as a source of profit, scribbling street-ballads, which he pri- 
vately sold for five shillings each at a shop which dealt in 
such small wares of literature. He felt an author's affection 
for these unowned bantlings, and we are told would stroll 



22 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

privately through the streets at night to hear them sung, 
hstening to the comments and criticisms of by-standers, and 
observing the degree of applause which each received. 
Edmund Burke was a fellow-student with Goldsmith at the 
5 college. Neither the statesman nor the poet gave promise 
of their future celebrity, though Burke certainly surpassed 
his contemporary in industry and application, and evinced 
more disposition for self-improvement, associating himself 
with a number of his fellow-students in a debating club, in 

10 which they discussed literary topics, and exercised them- 
selves in composition. 

Goldsmith may likewise have belonged to this associa- 
tion, but his propensity was rather to mingle with the gay 
and thoughtless. On one occasion we find him implicated in 

15 an affair that came nigh producing his expulsion. A report 
was brought to college that a scholar was in the hands of 
the bailiffs. This was an insult in which every gownsman 
felt himself involved. A number of the scholars flew to 
arms, and sallied forth to battle, headed by a hair-brained 

20 fellow nicknamed Gallows Walsh, noted for his aptness at 
mischief and fondness for riot. The stronghold of the bailiff 
was carried by storm, the scholar set at liberty, and the delin- 
quent catchpole borne off captive to the college, where, hav- 
ing no pump to put him under, they satisfied the demands 

25 of collegiate law by ducking him in an old cistern. 

Flushed with this signal victory. Gallows Walsh now 
harangued his followers, and proposed to break open New- 
gate, or the Black Dog, as the prison was called, and effect 
a general jail-delivery. He was answered by shouts of con- 

30 currence, and away went the throng of madcap youngsters, 
fully bent upon putting an end to the tyranny of law. They 
were joined by the mob of the city, and made an attack upon 
the prison with true Irish precipitation and thoughtlessness, 
never having provided themselves with cannon to batter its 



A DANCE INTERRUPTED 23 

stone walls. A few shots from the prison brought them to 
their senses, and they beat a hasty retreat, two of the towns- 
men being killed, and several wounded. 

A severe scrutiny of this affair took place at the University, 
Four students, who had been ringleaders, were expelled; 5 
four others, who had been prominent in the affray, were 
publicly admonished ; among the latter was the unlucky 
Goldsmith. 

To make up for this disgrace, he gained, within a month 
afterward, one of the minor prizes of the college. It is true 10 
it was one of the very smallest, amounting in pecuniary value 
to but thirty shillings, but it was the first distinction he had 
gained in his whole collegiate career. This turn of success 
and sudden influx of wealth proved too much for the head of 
our poor student. He forthwith gave a supper and dance at 15 
his chamber to a number of young persons of both sexes from 
the city, in direct violation of college rules. The unwonted 
sound of the fiddle reached the ears of the implacable Wilder. 
He rushed to the scene of unhallowed festivity, inflicted cor- 
poral punishment on the "father of the feast," and turned 20 
his astonished guests neck and heels out-of-doors. 

This filled the measure of poor Goldsmith's humiliations ; he 
felt degraded both within college and without. He dreaded 
the ridicule of his fellow-students for the ludicrous termi- 
nation of his orgie, and he was ashamed to meet his city 25 
acquaintances after the degrading chastisement received in 
their presence, and after their own ignominious expulsion. 
Above all, he felt it impossible to submit any longer to 
the insulting tyranny of Wilder : he determined, therefore, 
to leave, not merely the college, but also his native land, and 30 
to bury what he conceived to be his irretrievable disgrace in 
some distant country. He accordingly sold his books and 
clothes, and sallied forth from the college walls the very 
next day, intending to embark at Cork for — he scarce knew 



24 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

where — America, or any other part beyond sea. With his 
usual heedless imprudence, however, he loitered about Dublin 
until his finances were reduced to a shilling ; with this amount 
of specie he set out on his journey. 
5 For three whole days he subsisted on his shilling; when 
that was spent, he parted with some of the clothes from his 
back, until, reduced almost to nakedness, he was four-and- 
twenty hours without food, insomuch that he declared a hand- 
ful of gray peas, given to him by a girl at a wake, was one 

10 of the most delicious repasts he had ever tasted. Hunger, 
fatigue, and destitution brought down his spirit and calmed 
his anger. Fain would he have retraced his steps, could he 
have done so with any salvo for the Hngerings of his pride. 
In his extremity he conveyed to his brother Henry infor- 

15 mation of his distress, and of the rash project on which he 
had set out. His affectionate brother hastened to his relief; 
furnished him with money and clothes ; soothed his feelings 
with gentle counsel ; prevailed upon him to return to col- 
lege, and effected an indifferent reconciliation between him 

20 and Wilder. 

After this irregular sally upon life he remained nearly two 
years longer at the University, giving proofs of talent in 
occasional translations from the classics, for one of which 
he received a premium, awarded only to those who are the 

25 first in literary merit. Still he never made much figure at 
college, his natural disinclination to study being increased 
by the harsh treatment he continued to experience from 
his tutor. 

Among the anecdotes told of him while at college is one 

30 indicative of that prompt but thoughtless and often whimsical 
benevolence which throughout life formed one of the most 
eccentric, yet endearing points of his character. He was 
engaged to breakfast one day with a college intimate, but 
failed to make his appearance. His friend repaired to his 



FINAL LEAVE OF THE UNIVERSITY 25 

room, knocked at the door, and was bidden to enter. To 
his "Surprise, he found Goldsmith in his bed, immersed to 
his chin in feathers. A serio-comic story explained the cir- 
cumstance. In the course of the preceding evening's stroll 
he had met with a woman with five children, who implored 5 
his charity. Her husband was in the hospital ; she was just 
from the country, a stranger, and destitute, without food or 
shelter for her helpless offspring. This was too much for 
the kind heart of Goldsmith. He was almost as poor as 
herself, it is true, and had no money in his pocket ; but he 10 
brought her to the college-gate, gave her the blankets from 
his bed to cover her little brood, and part of his clothes 
for her to sell and purchase food ; and, finding himself cold 
during the night, had cut open his bed and buried himself 
among the feathers. 15 

At length, on the 27th of February, 1749, O. S., he was 
admitted to the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and took his 
final leave of the University. He was freed from college 
rule, that emancipation so ardently coveted by the thought- 
less student, and which too generally launches him amid 20 
the cares, the hardships, and vicissitudes of life. He was 
freed, too, from the brutal tyranny of Wilder. If his kind 
and placable nature could retain any resentment for past 
injuries, it might have been gratified by learning- subse- 
quently that the passionate career of Wilder was terminated 25 
by a violent death in the course of a dissolute brawl ; but 
Goldsmith took no delight in the misfortunes even of his 
enemies. 

He now returned to his friends, no longer the student to 
sport away the happy interval of vacation, but the anxious 30 
man, who is henceforth to shift for himself and make his 
way through the world. In fact, he had no legitimate home 
to return to. At the death of his father, the paternal house 
at Lissoy, in which Goldsmith had passed his childhood, 



2(3 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

had been taken by Mr. Hodson, who had married his sister 
Catherine. His mother had removed to Ballymahon, \v4iere 
she occupied a small house, and had to practise the severest 
frugality. His elder brother Henry served the curacy and 
5 taught the school of his late father's parish, and lived in nar- 
row circumstances at Goldsmith's birthplace, the old goblin- 
house at Pallas. 

None of his relatives were in circumstances to aid him 
with anything more than a temporary home, and the aspect 

10 of every one seemed somewhat changed. In fact, his career 
at college had disappointed his friends, and they began to 
doubt his being the great genius they had fancied him. 
He whimsically alludes to this circumstance in that piece 
of autobiography, " The Man in Black," in the " Citizen of 

15 the World." 

" The first opportunity my father had of finding his expec- 
tations disappointed was in the middling figure I made at 
the University: he had flattered himself that he should soon 
see me rising into the foremost rank in literary reputation, 

20 but was mortified to find me utterly unnoticed and unknown. 
His disappointment might have been partly ascribed to 
his having overrated my talents, and partly to my dislike 
of mathematical reasonings at a time when my imagina- 
tion and memory, yet unsatisfied, were more eager after 

25 new objects than desirous of reasoning upon those I knew. 
This, however, did not please my tutors, who observed, in- 
deed, that I was a little dull, but at the same time allowed 
that I seemed to be very good-natured, and had no harm 
in me." ^ 

30 The only one of his relatives who did not appear to 
lose faith in him was his uncle Contarine. This kind 
and considerate man, it is said, saw in him a warmth of 
heart requiring some skill to direct, and a latent genius that 

1 Citizen of the World, letter xxvii. 



PREPARATION FOR HOLY ORDERS 2/ 

wanted time to mature; and these impressions none of his 
subsequent follies and irregularities wholly obliterated. His 
purse and affection, therefore, as well as his house, were 
now open to him, and he became his chief counsellor and 
director after his father's death. He urged him to pre- 5 
pare for holy orders ; and others of his relatives concurred 
in the advice. Goldsmith had a settled repugnance to a 
clerical life. This has been ascribed by some to consci- 
entious scruples, not considering himself of a temper and 
frame of mind for such a sacred office ; others attributed 10 
it to his roving propensities, and his desire to visit for- 
eign countries ; he himself gives a whimsical objection in 
his biography of the *' Man in Black " : — " To be obliged 
to wear a long wig when I liked a short one, or a black 
coat when I generally dressed in brown, I thought such 15 
a restraint upon my liberty that I absolutely rejected the 
proposal." 

In effect, however, his scruples were overruled, and he 
agreed to qualify himself for the office. He was now only 
twenty-one, and must pass two years of probation. They 20 
were two years of rather loitering, unsettled life. Sometimes 
he was at Lissoy, participating with thoughtless enjoyment 
in the rural sports and occupations of his brother-in-law, 
Mr. Hodson ; sometimes he was with his brother Henry, 
at the old goblin mansion at Pallas, assisting him occa- 25 
sionally in his school. The early marriage and unambi- 
tious retirement of Henry, though so subversive of the 
fond plans of his father, had proved happy in their results. 
He was already surrounded by a blooming family ; he was 
contented with his lot, beloved by his parishioners, and 30 
lived in the daily practice of all the amiable virtues, and 
the immediate enjoyment of their reward. Of the tender 
affection inspired in the breast of Goldsmith by the con- 
stant kindness of this excellent brother, and of the longing 



28 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

recollection with which, in the lonely wanderings of after- 
years, he looked back upon this scene of domestic felicity, 
we have a touching instance in the well-known opening to 
his poem of " The Traveller " : — 

'• Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, 
Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po ; 



Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see. 
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee ; 
Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain, 
10 And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 

" Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend. 
And round his dwelling guardian saints attend ; 
Bless'd be that spot, where cheerful guests retire 
To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire ; 

I c Bless'd that abode, where want and pain repair, 

And every stranger finds a ready chair : 
Bless'd be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd 
"Where all the ruddy family around 
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, 

20 Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale ; 

Or press the bashful stranger to his food, 
And learn the luxury of doing good." 

During this loitering life Goldsmith pursued no study, 
but rather amused himself with miscellaneous reading ; such 

25 as biography, travels, poetry, novels, plays — everything, in 
short, that administered to the imagination. Sometimes 
he strolled along the banks of the river Inny; where, in 
after-years, when he had become famous, his favorite seats 
and haunts used to be pointed out. Often he joined in 

30 the rustic sports of the villagers, and became adroit at 
throwing the sledge, a favorite feat of activity and strength 
in Ireland. Recollections of these "healthful sports" we 
find in his '' Deserted Village " : — 



FONDNESS FOR CLUBS 29 

" How often have I bless'd the coming day, 
When toil remitting lent its turn to play, 
And all the village train, from labor free. 
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree : 
And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, 5 

And sleights of art and feats of strength went round." 

A boon companion in all his rural amusements was his 
cousin and college crony, Robert Bryanton, with whom he 
sojourned occasionally at Ballymulvey House in the neigh- 
borhood. They used to make excursions about the coun- 10 
try on foot, sometimes fishing, sometimes hunting otter in 
the Inny. They got up a country club at the little inn of 
Ballymahon, of which Goldsmith soon became the oracle 
and prime wit ; astonishing his unlettered associates by 
his learning, and being considered capital at a song and 15 
a story. From the rustic conviviality of the inn at Bally- 
mahon, and the company which used to assemble there, it 
is surmised that he took some hints in after-life for his pic- 
turing of Tony Lumpkin and his associates : " Dick Mug- 
gins, the exciseman ; Jack Slang, the horse-doctor ; little 20 
Aminidab, that grinds the music-box, and Tom Twist, that 
spins the pewter platter." Nay, it is thought that Tony's 
drinking-song at the " Three Jolly Pigeons " was but a 
revival of one of the convivial catches at Ballymahon : — 

" Then come put the jorum about, 25 

And let us be merry and clever, 
Our hearts and our liquors are stout. 

Here 's the Three Jolly Pigeons forever. 
Let some cry of woodcock or hare, 

Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons, 30 

But of all the gay birds in the air. 

Here 's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll." 

Notwithstanding all these accomplishments and this rural 
popularity, his friends began to shake their heads and shrug 35 



30 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

their shoulders when they spoke of him ; and his brother 
Henry noted with anything but satisfaction his frequent 
visits to the club at Ballymahon. He emerged, however, 
unscathed from this dangerous ordeal, more fortunate in 

5 this respect than his comrade Bryanton ; but he retained 
throughout life a fondness for clubs : often, too, in the 
course of his checkered career, he looked back to this period 
of rural sports and careless enjoyments as one of the few 
sunny spots of his cloudy life ; and though he ultimately 

10 rose to associate with birds of a finer feather, his heart would 
still yearn in secret after the "Three Jolly Pigeons." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. To what extent was Goldsmith's college life like that of the aver- 
age collegian of to-day? In what respects was it different? 

2. What other distinguished authors of Great Britain at one time 
or another in their lives planned to sail for America? Would they 
probably have attained greatness if they had come ? 

3. Is the age at which Goldsmith took his degree above or below 
the present average age for graduation from college ? 

4. The country club. 



CHAPTER III 

Goldsmith rejected by the Bishop — Second Sally to see the World — Takes 
Passage for America — Ship sails without him — Return on Fiddle-back — 
A hospitable Friend — The Counsellor. 

The time had now arrived for Goldsmith to apply for 
orders, and he presented himself accordingly before the 
Bishop of Elphin for ordination. We have stated his great 
objection to clerical life, the obligation to wear a black coat ; 
and, whimsical as it may appear, dress seems in fact to have 5 
formed an obstacle to his entrance into the Church. He 
had ever a passion for clothing his sturdy but awkward 
little person in gay colors; and on this solemn occasion, 
when it was to be supposed his garb would be of suitable 
gravity, he appeared luminously arrayed in scarlet breeches ! 10 
He was rejected by the Bishop : some say for want of suffi- 
cient studious preparation ; his rambles and frolics with Bob 
Bryanton, and his revels with the club at Ballymahon, having 
been much in the way of his theological studies ; others 
attribute his rejection to reports of his college irregularities, 15 
which the Bishop had received from his old tyrant Wilder; 
but those who look into the matter with more knowing eyes, 
pronounce the scarlet breeches to have been the fundamental 
objection. " My friends," says Goldsmith, speaking through 
his humorous representative, the ''Man in Black," — "my 20 
friends were now perfectly satisfied I was undone; and yet 
they thought it a pity for one that had not the least harm in 
him, and was so very good-natured." His uncle Contarine, 
however, still remained unwavering in his kindness, though 
much less sanguine in his expectations. He now looked 25 
round for a humbler sphere of action, and through his 

31 



32 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

influence and exertions Oliver was received as tutor in 
the family of a Mr. Flinn, a gentleman of the neighborhood. 
The situation was apparently respectable ; he had his seat 
at the table ; and joined the family in their domestic recrea- 
5 tions and their evening game at cards. There was a servility, 
however, in his position, which was not to his taste ; nor did 
his deference for the family increase upon familiar inter- 
course. He charged a member of it with unfair play at cards. 
A violent altercation ensued, which ended in his throw- 

10 ing up his situation as tutor. On being paid off he found 
himself in possession of an unheard-of amount of money. 
His wandering propensity and his desire to see the world 
were instantly in the ascendency. Without communicating 
his plans or intentions to his friends, he procured a good 

15 horse, and, with thirty pounds in his pocket, made his second 
sally forth into the world. 

The worthy niece and housekeeper of the hero of La 
Mancha could not have been more surprised and dismayed 
at one of the Don's clandestine expeditions than were the 

20 mother and friends of Goldsmith when they heard of his 
mysterious departure. Weeks elapsed, and nothing was seen 
or heard of him. It was feared that he had left the coun- 
try on one of his wandering freaks, and his poor mother 
was reduced almost to despair when one day he arrived at 

25 her door almost as forlorn in plight as the prodigal son. 
Of his thirty pounds not a shilling was left ; and, instead 
of the goodly steed on which he had issued forth on his 
errantry, he was mounted on a sorry Httle pony, which he 
had nicknamed Fiddle-back. As soon as his mother was 

30 well assured of his safety, she rated him soundly for his 
inconsiderate conduct. His brothers and sisters, who were 
tenderly attached to him, interfered, and succeeded in mol- 
lifying her ire ; and whatever lurking anger the good dame 
might have, was no doubt effectually vanquished by the 



HOSPITABLE FRIEND 33 

following whimsical narrative which he drew up at his 
brother's house and dispatched to her: — 

" My dear mother, if you will sit down and calmly listen 
to what I say, you shall be fully resolved in every one of 
those many questions you have asked me. I went to Cork 5 
and converted my horse, which you prize so much higher 
than Fiddle-back, into cash, took my passage in a ship 
bound for America, and, at the same time, paid the captain 
for my freight and all the other expenses of my voyage. 
But it so happened that the wind did not answer for three 10 
weeks, and you know, mother, that I could not command 
the elements. My misfortune was, that, when the wind 
served, I happened to be with a party in the country, and 
my friend the captain never inquired after me, but set sail 
with as much indifference as if I had been on board. The 15 
remainder of my time I employed in the city and its envi- 
rons, viewing everything curious, and you know no one 
can starve while he has money in his pocket. 

" Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to 
think of my dear mother and friends whom I had left behind 20 
me, and so bought that generous beast. Fiddle-back, and 
bade adieu to Cork with only five shilHngs in my pocket. 
This, to be sure, was but a scanty allowance for man and 
horse towards a journey of above a hundred miles ; but I 
did not despair, for I knew I must find friends on the road. 25 

" I recollected particularly an old and faithful acquaint- 
ance I made at college, who had often and earnestly pressed 
me to spend a summer with him, and he lived but eight 
miles from Cork. This circumstance of vicinity he would 
expatiate on to me with peculiar emphasis. 'We shall,' 30 
says he, ' enjoy the delights of both city and country, and 
you shall command my stable and my purse.' 

" However, upon the way I met a poor woman all in tears, 
who told me her husband had been arrested for a debt he 



34 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

was not able to pay, and that his eight children must now 
starve, bereaved as they were of his industry, which had 
been their only support. I thought myself at home, being 
not far from my good friend's house, and therefore parted 
5 with a moiety of all my store ; and pray, mother, ought I 
not have given her the other half-crown, for what she got 
would be of little use to her ? However, I soon arrived at 
the mansion of my affectionate friend, guarded by the vigi- 
lance of a huge mastiff, who flew at me and would have torn 

10 me to pieces but for the assistance of a woman, whose coun- 
tenance was not less grim than that of the dog; yet she with 
great humanity relieved me from the jaws of this Cerberus, 
and was prevailed on to carry up my name to her master. 
'' Without suffering me to wait long, my old friend, who 

15 was then recovering from a severe fit of sickness, came 
down in his nightcap, nightgown, and sUppers, and em- 
braced me with the most cordial welcome, showed me in, 
and, after giving me a history of his indisposition, assured 
me that he considered himself peculiarly fortunate in having 

20 under his roof the man he most loved on -earth, and whose 
stay with him must, above all things, contribute to perfect 
his recovery. I now repented sorely I had not given the 
poor woman the other half-crown, as I thought all my bills 
of humanity would be punctually answered by this worthy 

25 man, I revealed to him my whole soul ; I opened to him 
all my distresses ; and freely owned that I had but one half- 
crown in my pocket ; but that now, like a ship after weath- 
ering out the storm, I considered myself secure in a safe 
and hospitable harbor. He made no answer, but walked 

30 about the room, rubbing his hands as one in deep study. 
This I imputed to the sympathetic feelings of a tender 
heart, which increased my esteem for him, and, as that in- 
creased, I gave the most favorable interpretation to his 
silence. I construed it into delicacy of sentiment, as if he 



FRUGAL ENTERTAINMENT 35 

dreaded to wound my pride by expressing his commiseration 
in words, leaving his generous conduct to speak for itself. 

" It now approached six o'clock in the evening ; and as I 
had eaten no breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, ray 
appetite for dinner grew uncommonly keen. At length the 5 
old woman came into the room with two plates, one spoon, 
and a dirty cloth, which she laid upon the table. This 
appearance, without increasing my spirits, did not diminish 
my appetite. My protectress soon returned with a small 
bowl of sago, a small porringer of sour milk, a loaf of stale 10 
brown bread, and the heel of an old cheese all over crawling 
with mites. My friend apologized that his illness obliged 
him to live on slops, and that better fare was not in the 
house ; observing, at the same time, that a milk diet was 
certainly the most healthful; and at eight o'clock he again 15 
recommended a regular life, declaring that for his part he 
would lie down with the lamb and rise with the lark. My 
hunger was at this time so exceedingly sharp that I wished 
for another slice of the loaf, but was obliged to go to bed 
without even that refreshment. 20 

" This lenten entertainment I had received made me 
resolve to depart as soon as possible ; accordingly, next 
morning, when I spoke of going, he did not oppose my 
resolution; he rather commended my design, adding some 
very sage counsel upon the occasion. ' To be sure,' said 25 
he, 'the longer you stay away from your mother, the more 
you will grieve her and your other friends ; and possibly 
they are already afflicted at hearing of this foolish expedi- 
tion you have made.' Notwithstanding all this, and without 
any hope of softening such a sordid heart, I again renewed 30 
the tale of my distress, and asking '■ how he thought I could 
travel above a hundred miles upon one half-crown?' I 
begged to borrow a single guinea, which I assured him 
should be repaid with thanks. ' And you know, sir,' said 



36 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

I, 'it is no more than I have done for you.' To which 
he firmly answered, 'Why, look you, Mr. Goldsmith, that is 
neither here nor there. I have paid you all you ever lent 
me, and this sickness of mine has left me bare of cash. 

5 But I have bethought myself of a conveyance for you ; sell 
your horse, and I will furnish you a much better one to ride 
on.' I readily grasped at his proposal, and begged to see 
the nag; on which he led me to his bedchamber, and from 
under the bed he pulled out a stout oak stick. ' Here he 

10 is,' said he ; 'take this in your hand, and it will carry you to 
your mother's with more safety than such a horse as you 
ride.' I was in doubt, when I got it into my hand, whether 
I should not, in the first place, apply it to his pate ; but a 
rap at the street-door made the wretch fly to it, and when I 

15 returned to the parlor he introduced me, as if nothing of the 
kind had happened, to the gentleman who entered, as Mr. 
Goldsmith, his most ingenious and worthy friend, of whom he 
had so often heard him speak with rapture. I could scarcely 
compose myself ; and must have betrayed indignation in my 

20 mien to the stranger, who was a counsellor-at-law in the 

neighborhood, a man of engaging aspect and polite address. 

" After spending an hour, he asked my friend and me to 

dine with him at his house. This I declined at first, as I 

wished to have no farther communication with my hospi- 

25 table friend ; but at the solicitation of both I at last con- 
sented, determined as I was by two motives : one, that I 
was prejudiced in favor of the looks and manner of the coun- 
sellor ; and the other, that I stood in need of a comfort- 
able dinner. And there, indeed, I found everything that 

30 I could wish, abundance without profusion, and elegance 
without affectation. In the evening, when my old friend, 
who had eaten very plentifully at his neighbor's table, but 
talked again of lying down with the lamb, made a motion 
to me for retiring, our generous host requested I should 



CHANCE COURTESIES 37 

take a bed with him, upon which I plainly told my old friend 
that he might go home and take care of the horse he had 
given me, but that I should never reenter his doors. He went 
away with a laugh, leaving me to add this to the other little 
things the counsellor already knew of his plausible neighbor. 5 

" And now, my dear mother, I found sufficient to recon- 
cile me to all my follies ; for here I spent three whole days. 
The counsellor had two sweet girls to his daughters, who 
played enchantingly on the harpsichord ; and yet it was but 
a melancholy pleasure I felt the first time I heard them ; 10 
for that being the first time also that either of them had 
touched the instrument since their mother's death, I saw 
the tears in silence trickle down their father's cheeks. I 
every day endeavored to go away, but every day was pressed 
and obliged to stay. On my going, the counsellor offered 15 
me his purse, with a horse and servant to convey me home ; 
but the latter I declined, and only took a guinea to bear my 
necessary expenses on the road. Oliver Goldsmith. 

" To Mrs. Anne Goldsmith, Ballymahon." 

Such is the story given by the poet-errant of this his 20 
second sally in quest of adventures. We cannot but think 
it was here and there touched up a little with the fanciful 
pen of the future essayist, with a view to amuse his mother . 
and soften her vexation; but even in these respects it is valu- 
able as showing the early play of his humor, and his happy 25 
knack of extracting sweets from that worldly experience 
which to others yields nothing but bitterness. 

TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Contrast the dispositions of Goldsmith and his college friend. 

2. How many dates has Irving thus far inserted in the biography? 

3. Is there any incident in " The Vicar of Wakefield " correspond- 
ing at all with Goldsmith's disposing of his horse ? 



CHAPTER IV 

Sallies forth as a Law Student — Stumbles at the Outset — Cousin Jane and 
the Valentine — A Family Oracle — Sallies forth as a Student of Medi- 
cine — Hocus-pocus of a Boarding-House — Transformations of a Leg of 
Mutton — The mock Ghost — Sketches of Scotland — Trials of Toadyism 
— A Poet's Purse for a Continental Tour. 

A new consultation was held among Goldsmith's friends 
as to his future course, and it was determined he should try 
the law. His uncle Contarine agreed to advance the neces- 
sary funds, and actually furnished him with fifty pounds, 
5 with which he set off for London, to enter on his studies at 
the Temple. Unfortunately, he fell in company at Dublin 
with a Roscommon acquaintance, one whose wits had been 
sharpened about town, who beguiled him into a gambling- 
house, and soon left him as penniless as when he bestrode 

10 the redoubtable Fiddle-back. 

He was so ashamed of this fresh instance of gross heed- 
lessness and imprudence, that he remained some time in 
Dublin without communicating to his friends his destitute 
condition. They heard of it, however, and he was invited 

1.5 back to the country, and indulgently forgiven by his gen- 
erous uncle, but less readily by his mother, who was mor- 
tified and disheartened at seeing all her early hopes of him 
so repeatedly blighted. His brother Henry, too, began to 
lose patience at these successive failures, resulting from 

20 thoughtless indiscretion ; and a quarrel took place, which for 

some time interrupted their usually affectionate intercourse. 

The only home where poor erring Goldsmith still received 

a welcome, was the parsonage of his affectionate forgiving 

uncle. Here he used to talk of literature with the good 

25 simple-hearted man, and delight him and his daughter with 

38 



THE FAMILY CIRCLE 39 

his verses. Jane, his early playmate, was now the woman 
grown ; their intercourse was of a more intellectual kind 
than formerly ; they discoursed of poetry and music ; she 
played on the harpsichord, and he accompanied her with 
his flute. The music may not have been very artistic, as 5 
he never performed but by ear ; it had probably as much 
merit as the poetry, which, if we may judge by the follow- 
ing specimen, was as yet but juvenile : — 

TO A YOUNG LADY ON VALENTINE'S DAY 

WITH THE DRAWING OF A HEART lO 

With submission at your shrine, 

Comes a heart your Valentine ; 

From the side where once it grew, 

See it panting flies to you. 

Take it, fair one, to your breast, 15 

Soothe the fluttering thing to rest ; 

Let the gentle, spotless toy 

Be your sweetest, greatest joy; 

Every night when wrapp'd in sleep, 

Next your heart the conquest keep ; 20 

Or if dreams your fancy move. 

Hear it whisper me and love ; 

Then in pity to the swain. 

Who must heartless else remain, 

Soft as gentle dewy show'rs, 25 

Slow descend on April flow'rs; 

Soft as gentle riv'lets glide. 

Steal unnoticed to my side ; 

If the gem you have to spare, 

Take your own and place it there. 30 

If this Valentine was intended for the fair Jane, and 
expressive of a tender sentiment indulged by the stripling 
poet, it was unavailing ; as not long afterwards she was 
married to a Mr. Lawder. We trust, however, it was but 
a poetical passion of that transient kind which grows up in 35 



40 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

idleness and exhales itself in rhyme. While Oliver was 
thus piping and poetizing at the parsonage, his uncle Con- 
tarine received a visit from Dean Goldsmith of Cloyne, — 
a kind of magnate in the wide but improvident family 
5 connection, throughout which his word was law and almost 
gospel. This august dignitary was pleased to discover 
signs of talent in Oliver, and suggested that, as he had 
attempted divinity and law without success, he should now 
try physic. The advice came from too important a source 

to to be disregarded, and it was determined to send him 
to Edinburgh to commence his studies. The Dean having 
given the advice, added to it, we trust, his blessing, but no 
money; that was furnished from the scantier purses of Gold- 
smith's brother, his sister (Mrs. Hodson), and his ever-ready 

15 uncle, Contarine. 

It was in the autumn of 1752 that Goldsmith arrived in 
Edinburgh. His outset in that city came near adding to 
the list of his indiscretions and disasters. Having taken 
lodgings at haphazard, he left his trunk there, containing all 

20 his worldly effects, and sallied forth to see the town. After 
sauntering about the streets until a late hour, he thought 
of returning home, when, to his confusion, he found he had 
not acquainted himself with the name either of his land- 
lady or of the street in which she lived. Fortunately, in 

25 the height of his whimsical perplexity, he met the cawdy 
or porter who had carried his trunk, and who now served 
him as a guide. 

He did not remain long in the lodgings in which he had 
put up. The hostess was too adroit at that hocus-pocus of 

30 the table which often is practised in cheap boarding-houses. 
No one could conjure a single joint through a greater variety 
of forms. A loin of mutton, according to Goldsmith's account, 
would serve him and two fellow-students a whole week. "A 
brandered chop was served up one day, a fried steak another. 



CARELESSNESS IN MONEY-MATTERS 



41 



collops with onion-sauce a third, and so on until the fleshy- 
parts were quite consumed, when finally a dish of broth was 
manufactured from the bones on the seventh day, and the 
landlady rested from her labors." Goldsmith had a good- 
humored mode of taking things, and for a short time amused 5 
himself with the shifts and expedients of his landlady, which 
struck him in a ludicrous manner ; he soon, however, fell in 
with fellow-students from his own country, whom he joined 
at more eligible quarters. 

He now attended medical lectures, and attached himself 10 
to an association of students called the Medical Society. 
He set out, as usual, with the best intentions, but, as usual, 
soon fell into idle, convivial, thoughtless habits. Edinburgh 
was indeed a place of sore trial for one of his temperament. 
Convivial meetings were all the vogue, and the tavern was 15 
the universal rallying-place of good-fellowship. And then 
Goldsmith's intimacies lay chiefly among the Irish students, 
who were always ready for a wild freak and frolic. Among 
them he was a prime favorite and somewhat of a leader, 
from his exuberance of spirits, his vein of humor, and his 20 
talent at singing an Irish song and telling an Irish story. 

His usual carelessness in money-matters attended him. 
Though his supplies from home were scanty and irregular, 
he never could bring himself into habits of prudence and 
economy; often he was stripped of all his present ^finances 25 
at play; often he lavished them away in fits of unguarded 
charity or generosity. Sometimes among his boon com- 
panions he assumed a ludicrous swagger in money-matters, 
which no one afterward was more ready than himself to 
laugh at. At a convivial meeting with a number of his 30 
fellow-students he suddenly proposed to draw lots with any 
one present which of the two should treat the whole party 
to the play. The moment the proposition had bolted from 
his lips, his heart was in his throat. " To my great though 



42 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

secret joy," said he, ''they all declined the challenge. Had 
it been accepted, and had I proved the loser, a part of my 
wardrobe must have been pledged in order to raise the 
money." 
5 At another of these meetings there was an earnest dispute 
on the question of ghosts, some being firm believers in the 
possibility of departed spirits returning to visit their friends 
and familiar haunts. One of the disputants set sail the next 
day for London, but the vessel put back through stress of 

10 weather. His return was unknown except to one of the 
believers in ghosts, who concerted with him a trick to be 
played off on the opposite party. In the evening, at a meet- 
ing of the students, the discussion was renewed ; and one of 
the most strenuous opposers of ghosts was asked whether 

15 he considered himself proof against ocular demonstration. 
He persisted in his scoffing. Some solemn process of con- 
juration was performed, and the comrade supposed to be on 
his way to London made his appearance. The effect was 
fatal. The unbeliever fainted at the sight, and ultimately 

20 went mad. We have no account of what share Goldsmith 
took in this transaction, at which he was present. 

The following letter to his friend Bryanton contains some of 
Goldsmith's impressions concerning Scotland and its inhab- 
itants, and gives indications of that humor which characterized 

25 some of his later writings. 

^'■Robert Bryanton^ at Ballymahon, Ireland. 

" Edinburgh, September 26th, 1753. 
" My dear Bob, — 

" How many good excuses (and you know I was ever 

30 good at an excuse) might I call up to vindicate my past 

shameful silence. I might tell how I wrote a long letter 

on my first coming hither, and seem vastly angry at my 

not receiving an answer ; I might allege that business (with 



SKETCHES OF SCOTL-AND 43 

business you know I was always pestered) had never given 
me time to finger a pen. But I suppress those and twenty 
more as plausible, and as easily invented, since they might 
be attended with a slight inconvenience of being known to 
be lies. Let me then speak truth. An hereditary indolence 5 
(I have it from the mother's side) has hitherto prevented 
my writing to you, and still prevents my writing at least 
twenty-five letters more, due to my friends in Ireland. No 
turnspit-dog gets up into his wheel with more reluctance 
than I sit down to write ; yet no dog ever loved the roast 10 
meat he turns better than I do him I now address. 

" Yet what shall I say now I am entered ? Shall I tire 
you with a description of this unfruitful country ; where I 
must lead you over their hills all brown with heath, or their 
valleys scarcely able to feed a rabbit? Man alone seems to 15 
be the only creature who has arrived to the natural size in 
this poor soil. Every part of the country presents the same 
dismal landscape. No grove, nor brook, lend their music 
to cheer the stranger, or make the inhabitants forget their 
poverty. Yet with all these disadvantages to call him down 20 
to humility, a Scotchman is one of the proudest things alive. 
The poor have pride ever ready to relieve them. If man- 
kind should happen to despise them, they are masters of 
their own admiration , and that they can plentifully bestow 
upon themselves. 25 

" From their pride and poverty, as I take it, results one 
advantage this country enjoys ; namely, the gentlemen here 
are much better bred than among us. No such character 
here as our fox-hunters ; and they have expressed great 
surprise when I informed them that some men in Ireland, 30 
of one thousand pounds a year, spend their whole lives in 
running after a hare, and drinking to be drunk. Truly, if 
such a being, equipped in his hunting-dress, came among 
a circle of Scotch gentry, they would behold him with the 



44 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

same astonishment that a countryman does King George 
on horseback. 

" The men here have generally high cheek-bones, and are 

lean and swarthy, fond of action, dancing in particular. Now 

5 that I have mentioned dancing, let me say something of their 

balls, which are very frequent here. When a stranger enters 

the dancing-hall, he sees one end of the room taken up by 

. the ladies, who sit dismally in a group by themselves ; — in 
the other end stand their pensive partners that are to be ; — 

lo but no more intercourse between the sexes than there is 
between two countries at war. The ladies indeed may ogle, 
and the gentlemen sigh ; but an embargo is laid on any closer 
commerce. At length, to interrupt hostilities, the lady direc- 
tress, or intendant, or what you will, pitches upon a lady and 

1 5 gentleman to walk a minuet ; which they perform with a 
formality that approaches to despondence. After five or six 
couple have thus walked the gauntlet, all stand up to country 
dances ; each gentleman furnished with a partner from the 
aforesaid lady directress ; so they dance much, say nothing, 

20 and thus concludes our assembly. I told a Scotch gentleman 
that such profound silence resembled the ancient procession 
of the Roman matrons in honor of Ceres ; and the Scotch 
gentleman told me (and, faith I beUeve he was right) that I 
was a very great pedant for my pains. 

25 " Now I am come to the ladies ; and to show that I love 
Scotland, and everything that belongs to so charming a coun- 
try, I insist on it, and will give him leave to break my head 
that denies it — that the Scotch ladies are ten thousand times 
finer and handsomer than the Irish. To be sure, now, I 

30 see your sisters Betty and Peggy vastly surprised at my 
partiality, — but tell them flatly, I don't value them — or 

their fine skins, or eyes, or good sense, or , a potato ; 

— for I say, and will maintain it; and as a convincing proof 
(I am in a great passion) of what I assert, the Scotch ladies 



SKETCHES OF SCOTLAND 45 

say it themselves. But to be less serious ; where will you 
find a language so prettily become a pretty mouth as the 
broad Scotch ? And the women here speak it in its highest 
purity ; for instance, teach one of your young ladies at home 
to pronounce the ' Whoar wull I gong ? ' with a becoming 5 
widening of mouth, and I '11 lay my life they '11 wound every 
hearer. 

" We have no such character here as a coquette, but alas ! 
how many envious prudes ! Some days ago I walked into 
my Lord Kilcoubry's (don't be surprised, my lord is but a 10 
glover),^ when the Duchess of Hamilton (that fair who sacri- 
ficed her beauty to her ambition, and her inward peace to a 
title and gilt equipage) passed by in her chariot ; her battered 
husband, or more properly the guardian of her charms, sat 
by her side. Straight envy began, in the shape of no less 15 
than three ladies who sat with me, to find faults in her fault- 
less form. — ' For my part,' says the first, ' I think what I 
always thought, that the Duchess has too much of the red in 
her complexion.' 'Madam, I am of your opinion,' says the 
second ; ' I think her face has a palish cast too much on the 20 
delicate order.' ' And, let me tell you,' added the third lady, 
whose mouth was puckered up to the size of an issue, ' that 
the Duchess has fine lips, but she wants a mouth.' — At this 
every lady drew up her mouth as if going to pronounce the 
letter P. 25 

"But how ill, my Bob, does it become me to ridicule 
women with whom I have scarcely any correspondence ! 
There are, 't is certain, handsome women here ; and 't is 
certain they have handsome men to keep them company. 
An ugly and poor man is society only for himself ; and such 30 

1 William Maclellan, who claimed the title, and whose son succeeded in 
estabhshing the claim in 1773. The father is said to have voted at the election 
of the sixteen Peers for Scotland ; and to have sold gloves in the lobby at this 
and other public assemblages. 



46 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

society the world lets me enjoy in great abundance. For- 
tune has given you circumstances, and Nature a person to 
look charming in the eyes of the fair. Nor do I envy my 
dear Bob such blessings, while I may sit down and laugh at 
5 the world and at myself — the most ridiculous object in it. 
But you see I am grown downright splenetic, and perhaps 
the fit may continue till I receive an answer to this. I know 
you cannot send me much news from Ballymahon, but such 
as it is, send it all ; everything you send will be agreeable 

lo to me. 

" Has George Conway put up a sign yet ; or John Binley 
left off drinking drams ; or Tom Allen got a new wig ? But 
I leave you to your own choice what to write. While I live, 
know you have a true friend in yours, &c. &c. &c. 

15 " Oliver Goldsmith. 

"P. S. — Give my sincere respects (not compliments, do 
you mind) to your agreeable family, and give my service to 
my mother, if you see her; for, as you express it in Ire- 
land, I have a sneaking kindness for her still. Direct to 

20 me, , Student in Physic, in Edinburgh." 

Nothing worthy of preservation appeared from his pen 
during his residence in Edinburgh ; and indeed his poetical 
powers, highly as they had been estimated by his friends, 
had not as yet produced anything of superior merit. He 

25 made on one occasion a month's excursion to the Highlands. 
" I set out the first day on foot," says he, in a letter to his 
uncle Contarine, " but an ill-natured corn I have on my toe 
has for the future prevented that cheap mode of travelling ; 
so the second day I hired a horse, about the size of a ram, 

30 and he walked away (trot he could not) as pensive as his 
master." 

During his residence in Scotland his convivial talents 
gained him at one time attentions in a high quarter, which, 



PLANS FOR STUDY ON THE CONTINENT 47 

however, he had the good sense to appreciate correctly. " I 
have spent," says he, in one of his letters, " more than a 
fortnight every second day at the Duke of Hamilton's ; but 
it seems they like me more as a jester than as a companion, 
so I disdained so servile an employment as unworthy my 5 
calling as a physician." Here we again find the origin of 
another passage in his autobiography, under the character 
of the " Man in Black," wherein that worthy figures as a 
flatterer to a great man. "At first," says he, "I was sur- 
prised that the situation of a flatterer at a great man's table 10 
could be thought disagreeable ; there was no great trouble 
in Ustening attentively when his lordship spoke, and laugh- 
ing when he looked round for applause. This, even good 
manners might have obliged me to perform. I found, how- 
ever, too soon, his lordship was a greater dunce than myself, 15 
and from that moment flattery was at an end. I now rather 
aimed at setting him right than at receiving his absurdities 
with submission : to flatter those we do not know is an easy 
task ; but to flatter our intimate acquaintances, all whose 
foibles are strongly in our eyes, is drudgery insupportable. 20 
Every time I now opened my lips in praise, my falsehood 
went to my conscience ; his lordship soon perceived me to 
be very unfit for his service : I was therefore discharged ; 
my patron at the same time being graciously pleased to 
observe that he believed I was tolerably good-natured and 25 
had not the least harm in me." 

After spending two winters at Edinburgh, Goldsmith 
prepared to finish his medical studies on the Continent, 
for which his uncle Contarine agreed to furnish the funds. 
"I intend," said he, in a letter to his uncle, "to visit Paris, 30 
where the great Farheim, Petit, and Du Hamel de Monceau 
instruct their pupils in all the branches of medicine. They 
speak French, and consequently I shall have much the advan- 
tage of most of my countrymen, as I am perfectly acquainted 



48 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

with that language, and few who leave Ireland are so. I 
shall spend the spring and summer in Paris, and the begin- 
ning of next winter go to Leyden. The great Albinus is 
still alive there, and 't will be proper to go, though only to 

5 have it said that we have studied in so famous a university. 

" As I shall not have another opportunity of receiving 

money from your bounty till my return to Ireland, so I have 

drawn for the last sum that I hope I shall ever trouble you 

for; 't is ;^20. And now, dear sir, let me here acknowledge 

10 the humility of the station in which you found me ; let me 
tell how I was despised by most, and hateful to myself. 
Poverty, hopeless poverty, was my lot, and Melancholy was 

beginning to make me her own, when you But I stop 

here, to inquire how your health goes on ? How does my 

IS cousin Jenny, and has she recovered her late complaint? 
How does my poor Jack Goldsmith ? I fear his disorder is 
of such a nature as he won't easily recover. I wish, my dear 
sir, you would make me happy by another letter before I go 
abroad, for there I shall hardly hear from you. . . . Give 

2o my — how shall I express it? — give my earnest love to 
Mr. and Mrs. Lawder." 

Mrs. Lawder was Jane, his early playmate — the object 
of his valentine — his first poetical inspiration. She had 
been for some time married. 

25 Medical instruction, it will be perceived, was the ostensi- 
ble motive for this visit to the Continent, but the real one, 
in all probability, was his long-cherished desire to see for- 
eign parts. This, however, he would not acknowledge even 
to himself, but sought to reconcile his roving propensities 

30 with some grand moral purpose. " I esteem the traveller 
who instructs the heart," says he, in one of his subsequent 
writings, " but I despise him who only indulges the imagina- 
tion. A man who leaves home to mend himself and others, 
is a philosopher; but he who goes from country to country. 



THE LAST SALLY UPON THE WORLD 49 

guided by the blind impulse of curiosity, is only a vaga- 
bond." He, of course, was to travel as a philosopher, and 
in truth his outfits for a Continental tour were in character. 
"I shall carry just £t,2> ^^ France," said he, "with good 
store of clothes, shirts, &c., and that with economy will 5 
suffice." He forgot to make mention of his flute, which it 
will be found had occasionally to come in play when econ- 
omy could not replenish his purse, nor philosophy find him 
a supper. Thus slenderly provided with money, prudence 
or experience, and almost as slightly guarded against " hard 10 
knocks " as the hero of La Mancha, whose head-piece was 
half iron, half pasteboard, he made his final sally forth upon 
the world ; hoping all things ; believing all things : little 
anticipating the checkered ills in store for him ; little think- 
ing when he penned his valedictory letter to his good uncle 15 
Contarine, that he was never to see him more ; never to 
return after all his wandering to the friend of his infancy; 
never to revisit his early and fondly remembered haunts at 
"sweet Lissoy " and Ballymahon. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Goldsmith's residence in Scotland. 

2. Early instances of his carelessness in money-matters. 

3. "Why did he decide to go to the Continent ? What itinerary did 
he plan for himself? Did he carry out his plans .^ [Glance through 
subsequent chapters.] 

4. Why is it an " insupportable drudgery " to flatter our " intimate 
acquaintances " } Is flattery ever permissible .'' What is the sincerest 
flattery? 



CHAPTER V 

The agreeable Fellow-Passengers — Risks from Friends picked up by the Way- 
side — Sketches of Holland and the Dutch — Shifts while a poor Student at 
Leyden — The Tulip-Speculation — The provident Flute — Sojourn at Paris 
— Sketch of Voltaire — Travelling Shifts of a Philosophic Vagabond. 

His usual indiscretion attended Goldsmith at the very 
outset of his foreign enterprise. He had intended to take 
shipping at Leith for Holland ; but on arriving at that port, 
he found a ship about to sail for Bordeaux, with six agree- 
5 able passengers, whose acquaintance he had probably made 
at the inn. He was not a man to resist a sudden impulse; 
so, instead of embarking for Holland, he found himself 
ploughing the seas on his way to the other side of the conti- 
nent. Scarcely had the ship been two days at sea, when she 

10 was driven by stress of weather to Newcastle-upon-Tyne. 
Here '' of course " Goldsmith and his agreeable fellow- 
passengers found it expedient to go on shore and "refresh 
themselves after the fatigues of the voyage." " Of course " 
they frolicked and made merry until a late hour in the even- 

15 ing, when, in the midst of their hilarity, the door was burst 
open, and a sergeant and twelve grenadiers entered with fixed 
bayonets, and took the whole convivial party prisoners. 

It seems that the agreeable companions with whom our 
greenhorn had struck up such a sudden intimacy, were 

20 Scotchmen in the French service, who had been in Scotland 
enlisting recruits for the French army. 

In vain Goldsmith protested his innocence ; he was 
marched off with his fellow-revellers to prison, whence 
he with difficulty obtained his release at the end of a fort- 

25 night. With his customary facility, however, at palliating his 

50 



SKETCHES OF HOLLAND 5 I 

misadventures, he found everything turn out for the best. 
His imprisonment saved his life, for during his detention 
the ship proceeded on her voyage, but was wrecked at the 
mouth of the Garonne, and all on board perished. 

Goldsmith's second embarkation was for Holland direct, 5 
and in nine days he arrived at Rotterdam, whence he pro- 
ceeded, without any more deviations, to Leyden. He gives 
a whimsical picture, in one of his letters, of the appearance 
of the Hollanders. " The modern Dutchman is quite a 
different creature from him of former times : he in every- 10 
thing imitates a Frenchman but in his easy, disengaged air. 
He is vastly ceremonious, and is, perhaps, exactly what a 
Frenchman might have been in the reign of Louis XIV. 
Such are the better bred. But the downright Hollander is 
one of the oddest figures in nature. Upon a lank head of 15 
hair he wears a half-cocked narrow hat laced with black 
ribband ; no coat, but seven waistcoats and nine pair of 
breeches, so that his hips reach up almost to his armpits. 
This well-clothed vegetable is now fit to see company or 
make love. But what a pleasing creature is the object of 20 
his appetite ! why, she wears a large fur cap, with a deal 
of Flanders lace ; and for every pair of breeches he carries, 
she puts on two petticoats. 

"A Dutch lady burns nothing about her phlegmatic 
admirer but his tobacco. You must know, sir, every woman 25 
carries in her hand a stove of coals, which, when she sits, 
she snugs under her petticoats, and at this chimney, dozing 
Strephon lights his pipe." 

In the same letter he contrasts Scotland and Holland. 
" There, hills and rocks intercept every prospect ; here, it is 30 
all a continued plain. There you might see a well-dressed 
Duchess issuing from a dirty close, and here a dirty Dutch- 
man inhabiting a palace. The Scotch may be compared to 
a tulip, planted in dung; but I can never see a Dutchman 



52 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

in his own house, but I think of a magnificent Egyptian 
temple dedicated to an ox." 

The country itself awakened his admiration, "Nothing," 
said he, " can equal its beauty ; wherever I turn my eyes, 
5 fine houses, elegant gardens, statues, grottos, vistas, pre- 
sent themselves ; but when you enter their towns, you are 
charmed beyond description. No misery is to be seen here ; 
every one is usefully employed." And again, in his noble 
description in ''The Traveller": — 

lo "To men of other minds my fancy flies, 

Imbosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. 
Methinks her patient sons before me stand, 
Where the broad ocean leans against the land, 
And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, 

1 5 Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. 

Onward, methinks, and diligently slow, 
The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ; 
Spreads its long arms amid the watery roar. 
Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore. 

20 "While the pent ocean, rising o'er the pile, 

Sees an amphibious world before him smile : 
The slow canal, the yellow blossom'd vale, 
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, 
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, 

25 A new creation rescued from his reign." 

He remained about a year at Leyden, attending the 
lectures of Gaubius on chemistry and Albinus on anatomy; 
though his studies are said to have been miscellaneous, and 
directed to literature rather than science. The thirty-three 

30 pounds with which he had set out on his travels were soon 
consumed, and he was put to many a shift to meet his 
expenses until his precarious remittances should arrive. He 
had a good friend on these occasions in a fellow-student and 
countryman, named Ellis, who afterwards rose to eminence 

35 as a physician. He used frequently to loan small sums to 



SHIFTS AS A STUDENT 53 

Goldsmith, which were always scrupulously paid. Ellis dis- 
covered the innate merits of the poor awkward student, and 
used to declare in after-life that " it was a common remark 
in Leyden, that in all the peculiarities of Goldsmith, an ele- 
vation of mind was to be noted ; a philosophical tone and 5 
manner ; the feelings of a gentleman, and the language and 
information of a scholar." 

Sometimes, in his emergencies, Goldsmith undertook to 
teach the English language. It is true he was ignorant of 
the Dutch, but he had a smattering of the French, picked 10 
up among the Irish priests at Ballymahon. He depicts his 
whimsical embarrassment in this respect, in his account in 
the " Vicar of Wakefield " of the philosophical vagabond who 
went to Holland to teach the natives English, without know- 
ing a word of their own language. Sometimes, when sorely 15 
pinched, and sometimes, perhaps, when flush, he resorted 
to the gambling-tables, which in those days abounded in 
Holland. His good friend Ellis repeatedly warned him 
against this unfortunate propensity, but in vain. It brought 
its own cure, or rather its own punishment, by stripping him 20 
of every shilling. 

Ellis once more stepped in to his relief with a true Irish- 
man's generosity, but with more considerateness than gen- 
erally characterizes an Irishman, for he only granted pecu- 
niary aid on condition of his quitting the sphere of danger. 25 
Goldsmith gladly consented to leave Holland, being anxious 
to visit other parts. He intended to proceed to Paris and 
pursue his studies there, and was furnished by his friend 
with money for the journey. Unluckily, he rambled into 
the garden of a florist just before quitting Leyden. The ^p 
tulip-mania was still prevalent in Holland, and some spe- 
cies of that splendid flower brought immense prices. In 
wandering through the garden. Goldsmith recollected that his 
uncle Contarine was a tulip-fancier. The thought suddenly 



54 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

struck him that here was an opportunity of testifying, in 
a delicate manner, his sense of that generous uncle's past 
kindnesses. In an instant his hand was in his pocket ; a 
number of choice and costly tulip-roots were purchased and 
5 packed up for Mr. Contarine ; and it was not until he had 
paid for them that he bethought himself that he had spent 
all the money borrowed for his travelling expenses. Too 
proud, however, to give up his journey, and too shamefaced 
to make another appeal to his friend's liberality, he deter- 

lo mined to travel on foot, and depend upon chance and good 

luck for the means of getting forward ; and it is said that 

he actually set off on a tour of the Continent, in February, 

1755, with but one spare shirt, a flute, and a single guinea. 

"Blessed," says one of his biographers, "with a good 

15 constitution, an adventurous spirit, and with that thought- 
less, or, perhaps, happy disposition which takes no care for 
to-morrow, he continued his travels for a long time in spite 
of innumerable privations." In his amusing narrative of 
the adventures of a " Philosophic Vagabond " in the " Vicar 

20 of Wakefield," we find shadowed out the expedients he pur- 
sued. " I had some knowledge of music, with a tolerable 
voice ; I now turned what was once my amusement into a 
present means of subsistence. I passed among the harm- 
less peasants of Flanders, and among such of the French 

25 as were poor enough to be very merry, for I ever found 
them sprightly in proportion to their wants. Whenever I 
approached a peasant's house towards nightfall, I played one 
of my merriest tunes, and that procured me not only a lodg- 
ing, but subsistence for the next day ; but in truth I must 

30 own, whenever I attempted to entertain persons of a higher 
rank, they always thought my performance odious,,and never 
made me any return for my endeavors to please them." 

At Paris he attended the chemical lectures of Rouelle, 
then in great vogue, where he says he witnessed as bright 



SKETCH OF VOLTAIRE 55 

a circle of beauty as graced the court "of Versailles. His 
love of theatricals also led him to attend the performances 
of the celebrated actress Mademoiselle Clairon, with which 
he was greatly delighted. He seems to have looked upon 
the state of society with the eye of a philosopher, but to 5 
have read the signs of the times with the prophetic eye of 
a poet. In his rambles about the environs of Paris he was 
struck with the immense quantities of game running about 
almost in a tame state ; and saw in those costly and rigid 
preserves for the amusement and luxury of the privileged 10 
few, a sure "badge of the slavery of the people." This slav- 
ery he predicted was drawing towards a close. " When I 
consider that these parliaments, the members of which are 
all created by the court, and the presidents of which can 
only act by immediate direction, presume even to mention 15 
privileges and freedom, who till of late received directions 
from the throne with implicit humility ; when this is con- 
sidered, I cannot help fancying that the genius of Freedom 
has entered that kingdom in disguise. If they have but 
three weak monarchs more successively on the throne, the 20 
mask will be laid aside, and the country will certainly once 
more be free." Events have testified to the sage forecast of 
the poet. 

During a brief sojourn in Paris, he appears to have gained 
access to valuable society, and to have had the honor and 25 
pleasure of making the acquaintance of Voltaire ; of whom, 
in after-years, he wrote a memoir. " As a companion," says 
he, " no man ever exceeded him when he pleased to lead 
the conversation ; which, however, was not always the case. 
In company which he either disliked or despised, few could 30 
be more reserved than he ; but when he was warmed in dis- 
course, and got over a hesitating manner, which sometimes 
he was subject to, it was rapture to hear him. His meagre 
visage seemed insensibly to gather beauty : every muscle in 



56 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

it had meaning, and his eye beamed with unusual bright- 
ness. The person who writes this memoir," continues he, 
" remembers to have seen him in a select company of wits 
of both sexes at Paris, when the subject happened to turn 
5 upon English taste and learning. Fontenelle, (then nearly 
a hundred years old), who was of the party, and who being 
unacquainted with the language or authors of the country 
he undertook to condemn, with a spirit truly vulgar began 
to revile both. Diderot, who liked the English, and knew 

10 something of their literary pretensions, attempted to vindi- 
cate their poetry and learning, but with unequal abilities. 
The company quickly perceived that Fontenelle was superior 
in the dispute, and were surprised at the silence which Vol- 
taire had preserved all the former part of the night, particu- 

15 larly as the conversation happened to turn upon one of his 
favorite topics. Fontenelle continued his triumph until about 
twelve o'clock, when Voltaire appeared at last roused from 
his reverie. His whole frame seemed animated. He began 
his defence with the utmost defiance mixed with spirit, and 

20 now and then let fall the finest strokes of raillery upon his 
antagonist ; and his harangue lasted till three in the morn- 
ing. I must confess, that, whether from national partiality, 
or from the elegant sensibility of his manner, I never was so 
charmed, nor did I ever remember so absolute a victory as he 

25 gained in this dispute." Goldsmith's ramblings took him 

into Germany and Switzerland, from which last-mentioned 

country he sent to his brother in Ireland the first brief sketch, 

afterwards amplified into his poem of " The Traveller." 

At Geneva he became travelling tutor to a mongrel young 

30 gentleman, son of a London pawnbroker, who had been sud- 
denly elevated into fortune and absurdity by the death of an 
uncle. The youth, before setting up for a gentleman, had 

, been an attorney's apprentice, and was an arrant pettifogger 
in money-matters. Never were two beings more illy assorted 



TRAVELLING SHIFTS 57 

than he and Goldsmith. We may form an idea of the tutor 
and the pupil from the following extract from the narrative 
of the " Philosophic Vagabond." 

" I was to be the young gentleman's governor, but with a 
proviso that he could always be permitted to govern himself. 5 
My pupil, in fact, understood the art of guiding in money- 
concerns much better than I. He was heir to a fortune of 
about two hundred thousand pounds, left him by an uncle in 
the West Indies ; and his guardians, to qualify him for the 
management of it, had bound him apprentice to an attorney. 10 
Thus avarice was his prevailing passion ; all his questions on 
the road were, how money might be saved, — which was the 
least expensive course of travel, — whether anything could 
be bought that would turn to account when disposed of again 
in London ? Such curiosities on the way as could be seen 15 
for nothing he was ready enough to look at ; but if the sight 
of them was to be paid for, he usually asserted that he had 
been told that they were not worth seeing. He never paid 
a bill that he would not observe how amazingly expensive ' 
travelling was ; and all this though not yet twenty-one." 20 

In this sketch Goldsmith undoubtedly shadows forth his 
annoyances as travelling tutor to this concrete young gentle- 
man, compounded of the pawnbroker, the pettifogger, and 
the West Indian heir, with an overlaying of the city miser. 
They had continual difficulties on all points of expense until 25 
they reached Marseilles, where both were glad to separate. 

Once more on foot, but freed from the irksome duties of 
"bear-leader," and with some of his pay, as tutor, in his 
pocket, Goldsmith continued his half vagrant peregrinations 
through part of France and Piedmont and some of the Ital- 30 
ian States. He had acquired, as has been shown, a habit 
of shifting along and living by expedients, and a new one 
presented itself in Italy. " My skill in music," says he, in 
the "Philosophic Vagabond," "could avail me nothing in a 



58 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

country where every peasant was a better musician than I ; 
but by this time I had acquired another talent, which answered 
my purpose as well, and this was a skill in disputation. In all 
the foreign universities and convents there are, upon certain 

5 days, philosophical theses maintained against every adventi- 
tious disputant, for which, if the champion opposes with any 
dexterity, he can claim a gratuity in money, a dinner, and 
a bed for one night." Though a poor wandering scholar, 
his reception in these learned piles was as free from humili- 

ro ation as in the cottages of the peasantry. "With the mem- 
bers of these establishments," said he, " I could converse on 
topics of literature, ajid then I always forgot the meanness of 
my circumstances. ' ' 

At Padua, where he remained some months, he is said 

15 to have taken his medical degree. It is probable he was 
brought to a pause in this city by the illness of his uncle 
Contarine ; who had hitherto assisted him in his wander- 
ings by occasional, though, of course, slender remittances. 
Deprived of this source of supplies, he wrote to his friends 

20 in Ireland, and especially to his brother-in-law, Hodson, 
describing his destitute situation. His letters brought him 
neither money nor reply. It appears, from subsequent cor- 
respondence, that his brother-in-law actually exerted himself 
to raise a subscription for his assistance among his rela- 

25 tives, friends, and acquaintance, but without success. Their 
faith and hope in him were most probably at an end; as 
yet he had disappointed them at every point, he had given 
none of the anticipated proofs of talent, and they were too 
poor to support what they may have considered the wan- 

30 dering propensities of a heedless spendthrift. 

Thus left to his own precarious resources. Goldsmith gave 
up all further wandering in Italy, without visiting the south, 
though Rome and Naples must have held out powerful attrac- 
tions to one of his poetical cast. Once more resuming his 



HIS MAGIC FLUTE 59 

pilgrim staff, he turned his face toward England, " walking 
along from city to city, examining mankind more nearly, and 
seeing both sides of the picture." In' traversing France his 
flute — his magic flute ! — was once more in requisition, as we 
may conclude by the following passage in his " Traveller " : — 

"Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease, 
Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please, 
How often have I led thy sportive choir 
With tuneless pipe beside the murmuring Loire ! 
Where shading elms along the margin grew, 
And freshened from the wave the zephyr flew ; 
And haply though my harsh note falt'ring still, 
But mocked all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill ; 
Yet would the village praise my wondrous power. 
And dance forgetful of the noontide hour. 
Alike all ages : Dames of ancient days 
Have led their children through the mirthful maze, 
And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, 
Has frisk'd beneath the burden of three-score." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Goldsmith's improvidence in Holland. 

2. His experiences as tutor to the stingy young man. 

3. Prepare a detailed outline for a composition on his two years of 
roving about the Continent. Will it be better to adopt a time succession 
or a place order in dividing the subject .'' 

4. How did his imprisonment in Newcastle-upon-Tyne save his life ? 

5. What is Irving's purpose in closing the chapter with a quotation .'' 
Why do many compositions by students, and essays or orations by well- 
known waiters or speakers end with quotations of poetry ? Is the prac- 
tice one to be commended ? 



CHAPTER VI 

Landing in England — Shifts of a Man without Money — The Pestle and 
Mortar — Theatricals in a Barn — Launch upon London — A City Night- 
Scene — Struggles with Penury — Miseries of a Tutor — A Doctor in the 
Suburb — Poor Practice and second-hand Finery — A Tragedy in Embryo 
— Project of the Written Mountains. 

After two years spent in roving about the Continent, " pur- 
suing novelty," as he said, " and losing content," Goldsmith 
landed at Dover early in 1756. He appears to have had no 
definite plan of action. The death of his uncle Contarine, 

5 and the neglect of his relatives and friends to reply to his 
letters, seem to have produced in him a temporary feeling of 
loneliness and destitution, and his only thought was to get 
to London, and throw himself upon the world. But how 
was he to get there ? His purse was empty. England was 

10 to him as completely a foreign land as any part of the Con- 
tinent, and where on earth is a penniless stranger more 
destitute ? His flute and his philosophy were no longer of 
any avail ; the English boors cared nothing for music ; there 
were no convents ; and as to the learned and the clergy, not 

15 one of them would give a vagrant scholar a supper and 
night's lodging for the best thesis that ever was argued. 
"You may easily imagine," says he, in a subsequent letter 
to his brother-in-law, "what difficulties I had to encounter, 
left as I was without friends, recommendations, money, or 

20 impudence, and that in a country where being born an Irish- 
man was sufficient to keep me unemployed. Many, in such 
circumstances, would have had recourse to the friar's cord 
or the suicide's halter. But, with all my follies, I had prin- 
ciple to resist the one, and resolution to combat the other." 

60 



LAUNCH UPON LONDON 6l 

He applied at one place, we are told, for employment 
in the shop of a country apothecary; but all his medical 
science gathered in foreign universities could not gain him 
the management of a pestle and mortar. He even resorted, 
it is said, to the stage as a temporary expedient, and figured 5 
in low comedy at a country town in Kent. This accords 
with his last shift of the Philosophic Vagabond, and with the 
knowledge of country theatricals displayed in his "Adven- 
tures of .a Strolling Player," or may be a story suggested by 
them. All this part of his career, however, in which he 10 
must have trod the lowest paths of humility, are only to 
be conjectured from vague traditions, or scraps of autobi- 
ography gleaned from his miscellaneous writings. 

At length we find him launched on the great metropolis, 
or rather drifting about its streets, at night, in the gloomy 15 
month of February, with but a few half-pence in his pocket. 
The Deserts of Arabia are not more dreary and inhospitable 
than the streets of London at such a time, and to a stranger 
in such a plight. Do we want a picture as an illustration.? 
We have it in his own works, and furnished, doubtless, from 20 
his own experience. 

''The clock has just struck two; what a gloom hangs all 
around ! no sound is heard but of the chiming clock, or the 
distant watch-dog. How few appear in those streets, which 
but some few hours ago were crowded ! But who are those 25 
who make the streets their couch, and find a short repose 
from wretchedness at the doors of the opulent? They are 
strangers, wanderers, and orphans, whose circumstances are 
too humble to expect redress, and whose distresses are too 
great even for pity. Some are without the covering even of 30 
rags, and others emaciated with disease ; the world has dis- 
claimed them ; society turns its back upon their distress, 
and has given them up to nakedness and hunger. T^ese 
poor shiveri7ig females have Ofice seen happier days, and been 



62 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

flattered into beauty. They are now turned out to meet the 
severity of winter. Perhaps now, lying at the doors of their 
betrayers, they sue to wretches whose hearts are insensible, 
or debauchees who may curse, but will not relieve them. 
5 " Why, why was I born a man, and yet see the sufferings of 
wretches I cannot relieve ! Poor houseless creatures ! The 
world will give you reproaches, but will not give you relief." 
Poor houseless Goldsmith! we may here ejaculate — to 
what shifts he must have been driven to find shelter and 

lo sustenance for himself in this his first venture into London ! 
Many years afterwards, in the days of his social elevation, 
he startled a polite circle at Sir Joshua Reynolds's by 
humorously dating an anecdote about the time he " lived 
among the beggars of Axe Lane." Such may have been 

15 the desolate quarters with which he was fain to content 
himself when thus adrift upon the town, with but a few 
half-pence in his pocket. 

The first authentic trace we have of him in this new part 
of his career, is filling the situation of an usher to a school, 

20 and even this employ he obtained with some difficulty, after 
a reference for a character to his friends in the University 
of Dublin. In the "Vicar of Wakefield" he makes George 
Primrose undergo a whimsical catechism concerning the 
requisites for an usher. " Have you been bred apprentice 

25 to the business? " " No." " Then you won't do for a school. 
Can you dress the boys' hair ? " " No." " Then you won't 
do for a school. Can you lie three in a bed?" "No." 
" Then you will never do for a school. Have you a good 
stomach ? " " Yes." ''Then you will by no means do for a 

30 school. I have been an usher in a boarding-school, myself, 
and may I die of an anodyne necklace, but I had rather 
be under-turnkey in Newgate. I was up early and late : I 
was browbeat by the master, hated for my ugly face by the 
mistress, worried by the boys," 



DOCTOR IN THE SUBURB 63 

Goldsmith remained but a short time in this situation, 
and to the mortifications experienced there we doubtless 
owe the picturings given in his writings of the hardships of 
an usher's life. "He is generally," says he, "the laughing- 
stock of the school. Every trick is played upon him ; the 5 
oddity of his manner, his dress, or his language, is a fund 
of eternal ridicule ; the master himself now and then cannot 
avoid joining in the laugh; and the poor wretch, eternally 
resenting this ill-usage, lives in a state of war with all the 
family." ... " He is obliged, perhaps, to sleep in the 10 
same bed with the French teacher, who disturbs him for an 
hour every night in papering and filleting his hair, and 
stinks worse than a carrion with his rancid pomatums, when 
he lays his head beside him on the bolster." 

His next shift was as assistant in the laboratory of a 15 
chemist near Fish-Street Hill. After remaining here a few 
months, he heard that Dr. Sleigh, who had been his friend 
and fellow-student at Edinburgh, was in London. Eager to 
meet with a friendly face in this land of strangers, he 
immediately called on him; "but though it was Sunday, 20 
and it is to be supposed I was in my best clothes, Sleigh 
scarcely knew me — such is the tax the unfortunate pay to 
poverty. However, when he did recollect me, I found his 
heart as warm as ever, and he shared his purse and friend- 
ship with me during his continuance in London." 25 

Through the advice and assistance of Dr. Sleigh, he now 
commenced the practice of medicine, but in a small way, 
in Bankside, Southwark, and chiefly among the poor; for 
he wanted the figure, address, polish, and management, to 
succeed among the rich. His old schoolmate and college 30 
companion, Beatty, who used to aid him with his purse at 
the university, met him about this time, decked out in the 
tarnished finery of a second-hand suit of green and gold, 
with a shirt and neckcloth of a fortnight's wear. 



64 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Poor Goldsmith endeavored to assume a prosperous air 
in the eyes of his early associate. " He was practising 
physic," he said, "and doing very well!^^ At this moment 
poverty was pinching him to the bone in spite of his practice 
5 and his dirty finery. His fees were necessarily small and 
ill paid, and he was fain to seek some precarious assistance 
from his pen. Here his quondam fellow-student, Dr. Sleigh, 
was again of service, introducing him to some of the book- 
sellers, who gave him occasional, though starveling, employ- 

10 ment. According to tradition, however, his most efficient 
patron just now was a journeyman printer, one of his poor 
patients of Bankside, who had formed a good opinion of his 
talents, and perceived his poverty and his literary shifts. 
The printer was in the employ of Mr. Samuel Richardson, 

15 the author of "Pamela," "Clarissa," and "Sir Charles 
Grandison"; who combined the novelist and the publisher, 
and was in flourishing circumstances. Through the jour- 
neyman's intervention Goldsmith is said to have become 
acquainted with Richardson, who employed him as reader 

20 and corrector of the press, at his printing establishment in 
Salisbury Court, — an occupation which he alternated with 
his medical duties. 

Being admitted occasionally to Richardson's parlor, he 
began to form literary acquaintances, among whom the most 

25 important was Dr. Young, the author of " Night Thoughts," 
a poem in the height of fashion. It is not probable, how- 
ever, that much familiarity took place at the time between 
the literary lion of the day and the poor y^isculapius of 
Bankside, the humble corrector of the press. Still the 

30 communion with literary men had its effect to set his imagi- 
nation teeming. Dr. Farr, one of his Edinburgh fellow- 
students, who was at London about this time, attending 
the hospitals and lectures, gives us an amusing account of 
Goldsmith in his literary character. 



THE WRITTEN MOUNTAINS 65 

" Early in January he called upon me one morning before 
I was up, and, on my entering the room, I recognized my 
old acquaintance, dressed in a rusty, full-trimmed black suit, 
with his pockets full of papers, which instantly reminded me 
of the poet in Garrick's farce of ' Lethe.' After we had 5 
finished our breakfast, he drew from his pocket part of a 
tragedy, which he said he had brought for my correction. 
In vain I pleaded inability, when he began to read ; and 
every part on which I expressed a doubt as to the propriety 
was immediately blotted out. I then most earnestly pressed 10 
him not to trust to my judgment, but to take the opinion of 
persons better qualified to decide on dramatic compositions. 
He now told me he had submitted his production, so far as 
he had written, to Mr. Richardson, the author of ' Clarissa,' 
on which I peremptorily declined offering another criticism 15 
on the performance." 

From the graphic description given of him by Dr. Farr, 
it will be perceived that the tarnished finery of green and 
gold had been succeeded by a professional suit of black, 
to which, we are told, were added the wig and cane indis- 20 
pensable to medical doctors in those days. The coat was 
a second-hand one, of rusty velvet, with a patch on the left 
breast, which he adroitly covered with his three-cornered 
hat during his medical visits ; and we have an amusing 
anecdote of his contest of courtesy with a patient who per- 25 
sisted in endeavoring to relieve him from the hat, which 
only made him press it more devoutly to his heart. 

Nothing further has ever been heard of the tragedy men- 
tioned by Dr. Farr ; it was probably never completed. The 
same gentleman speaks of a strange Quixotic scheme which 30 
Goldsmith had in contemplation at the time, ''of going to 
decipher the inscriptions on the written motmtains, though 
he was altogether ignorant of Arabic, or the language in 
which they might be supposed to be written. '' The salary 



66 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

of three hundred pounds," adds Dr. Farr, "which had been 
left for the purpose, was the temptation." This was prob- 
ably one of many dreamy projects with which his fervid 
brain was apt to teem. On such subjects he was prone to 
5 talk vaguely and magnificently, but inconsiderately, from a 
kindled imagination rather than a well-instructed judgment. 
He had always a great notion of expeditions to the East, and 
wonders to be seen and effected in the Oriental countries. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Tell vividly about Goldsmith's "contest of courtesy" with the 
patient who wanted to relieve him of his hat. In your narrative make 
use of a dialogue between the patient and the doctor. 

2. Give an account of Goldsmith's arrival in London. 



CHAPTER VII 

Life of a Pedagogue — Kindness to Schoolboys — Pertness in Return — Expen- 
sive Charities — The Griffiths and the " Monthly Review " — Toils of a 
Literary Hack — Rupture with the Griffiths. 

Among the most cordial of Goldsmith's intimates in Lon- 
don during this time of precarious struggle, were certain of . 
his former fellow-students in Edinburgh. One of these was 
the son of a Dr. Milner, a dissenting minister, who kept a 
classical school of eminence at Peckham, in Surrey. Young 5 
Milner had a favorable opinion of Goldsmith's abilities and 
attainments, and cherished for him that goodwill which his 
genial nature seems ever to have inspired among his school 
and college associates. His father falling ill, the young 
man negotiated with Goldsmith to take temporary charge 10 
of the school. The latter readily consented ; for he was 
discouraged by the slow growth of medical reputation and 
practice, and as yet had no confidence in the coy smiles 
of the Muse. Laying by his wig and cane, therefore, and 
once more wielding the ferule, he resumed the character 15 
of the pedagogue, and for some time reigned as vicegerent 
over the academy at Peckham. He appears to have been 
well treated by both Dr. Milner and his wife ; and became 
a favorite with the scholars from his easy, indulgent good- 
nature. He mingled in their sports ; told them droll stories; 20 
played on the flute for their amusement, and spent his 
money in treating them to sweetmeats and other schoolboy 
dainties. His familiarity was sometimes carried too far; 
he indulged in boyish pranks and practical jokes, and drew 
upon himself retorts in kind, which, however, he bore with 25 
great good-humor. Once, indeed, he was touched to the 

^1 



68 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

quick by a piece of schoolboy pertness. After playing* on 
the flute, he spoke with enthusiasm of music, as delightful 
in itself, and as a valuable accomplishment for a gentleman, 
whereupon a youngster, with a glance at his ungainly per- 
5 son, wished to know if he considered himself a gentleman. 
Poor Goldsmith, feelingly alive to the awkwardness of his 
appearance and the humility of his situation, winced at this 
unthinking sneer, which long rankled in his mind. 

As usual, while in Dr. Milner's employ, his benevolent 

10 feelings were a heavy tax upon his purse, for he never could 
resist a tale of distress, and was apt to be fleeced by every 
sturdy beggar ; so that, between his charity and his munifi- 
cence, he was generally in advance of his slender salary. 
" You had better, Mr. Goldsmith, let me take care of youi 

15 money," said Mrs. Milner one day, ''as I do for some ol 
the young gentlemen." " In truth, madam, there is equal 
need ! " was the good-humored reply. 

Dr. Milner was a man of some literary pretensions, and 
wrote occasionally for the " Monthly Review," of which g 

20 bookseller, by the name of Griffiths, was proprietor. Thi^ 
work was an advocate for Whig principles, and had been in 
prosperous existence for nearly eight years. Of late, how- 
ever, periodicals had multiplied exceedingly, and a formi- 
dable Tory rival had started up in the " Critical Review," 

25 published by Archibald Hamilton, a bookseller, and aided 
by the powerful and popular pen of Dr. Smollett. Griffiths 
was obliged to recruit his forces. While so doing he met 
Goldsmith, a humble occupant of a seat at Dr. Milner's table, 
and was struck with remarks on men and books, which fell 

30 from him in the course of conversation. He took occasion 
to sound him privately as to his inclination and capacity 
as a reviewer, and was furnished by him with specimens of 
his literary and critical talents. They proved satisfactory. 
The consequence was that Goldsmith once more changed 



LITERARY HACK 69 

his mode of life, and in April, 1757, became a contributor 
to the " Monthly Review," at a small fixed salary, with 
board and lodging ; and accordingly took up his abode with 
Mr. Griffiths, at the sign of the Dunciad, Paternoster Row. 
As usual we trace this phase of his fortunes in his semi- 5 
fictitious writings ; his sudden transmutation of the peda- 
gogue into the author being humorously set forth in the 
case of "George Primrose" in the "Vicar of Wakefield." 
" Come," says George's adviser, " I see you are a lad of 
spirit and some learning ; what do you think of commen- 10 
cing author like me ? You have read in books, no doubt, of 
men of genius starving at the trade : at present I '11 show 
you forty very dull fellows about town that five by it in opu- 
lence. All honest, jog-trot men, who go on smoothly and 
dully, and write history and politics, and are praised: men, 15 

sir, who, had they been bred cobblers, would all their lives 

J* 
only have mended shoes, but never made them." " Find- 
ing " (says George) " that there was no great degree of 
gentility affixed to the character of an usher, I resolved to 
accept his proposal ; and, having the highest respect for 20 
literature, hailed the antiqua mater of Grub Street with rev- 
erence. I thought it my glory to pursue a track which 
Dryden and Otway trod before me." Alas, Dryden strug- 
gled with indigence all his days ; and Otway, it is said, fell 
a victim to famine in his thirty-fifth year, being strangled by 25 
a roll of bread, which he devoured with the voracity of a 
starving man. 

In Goldsmith's experience the track soon proved a thorny 
one. Griffiths was a hard business-man, of shrewd, worldly 
good sense, but little refinement or cultivation. He meddled 30 
or rather muddled with literature, too, in a business-way, 
altering and modifying occasionally the writings of his con- 
tributors, and in this he was aided by his wife, who, accord- 
ing to Smollett, was " an antiquated female critic and a 



70 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

dabbler in the ' Review.' " Such was the literary vassalage to 
which Goldsmith had unwarily subjected himself. A diurnal 
drudgery was imposed on him, irksome to his indolent habits, 
and attended by circumstances humiliating to his pride. He 
5 had to write daily from nine o'clock until two, and often 
throughout the day ; whether in the vein or not, and on 
subjects dictated by his task-master, however foreign to his 
taste ; in a word, he was treated as a mere literary hack. 
But this was not the worst ; it was the critical supervision 

10 of Griffiths and his wife, which grieved him ; the " illiterate, 
bookselling Griffiths," as Smollett called them, "who pre- 
sumed to revise, alter, and amend the articles contributed 
to their ' Review.' Thank Heaven," crowed Smollett, " the 
' Critical Review ' is not written under the restraint of a 

15 bookseller and his wife. Its principal writers are inde- 
pendent of each other, unconnected with booksellers, and 
unawed by old women ! " 

This literary vassalage, however, did not last long. The 
bookseller became more and more exacting. He accused 

20 his hack writer of idleness ; of abandoning his writing-desk 
and literary workshop at an early hour of the day; and of 
assuming a tone and manner above his situation. Goldsmith, 
in return, charged him with impertinence ; his wife, with mean- 
ness and parsimony in her household treatment of him, and 

25 both of literary meddling and marring. The engagement 
was broken off at the end of five months, by mutual consent, 
and without any violent rupture, as it will be found they 
afterwards had occasional dealings with each other. 

Though Goldsmith was now nearly thirty years of age, 

30 he had produced nothing to give him a decided reputa- 
tion. He was as yet a mere writer for bread. The articles 
he had contributed to the " Review " were anonymous, and 
were never avowed by him. They have since been, for the 
most part, ascertained ; and though thrown off hastily, often 



HIS EARLY WRITINGS /I 

treating on subjects of temporary interest, and marred by 
the Griffith interpolations, they are still characterized by his 
sound, easy good sense, and the genial graces of his style. 
Johnson observed that Goldsmith's genius flowered late ; he 
should have said it flowered early, but was late in bringing 
its fruit to maturity. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. In what respects was Goldsmith a gentleman ? [Consider in this 
connection whether Eppie, in the novel '* Silas Marner," was a lady, even 
though she denied all pretensions to the title.] 

2. What was the nature of some of Goldsmith's early articles while 
he was yet " a mere writer for bread " ? What is meant by the term 
" writer for bread " ? Do authors ever write for anything else than 
bread or money ? 

3. In what city was the greater part of Goldsmith's life spent after 
his return from the two years of wandering on the Continent ? What 
other English authors, of any period, resided in this same city ? 



CHAPTER VIII 

,Newbery, of Picture-Book Memory — How to keep up Appearances — Miseries 
of Authorship — A poor Relation — Letter to Hodson. 

Being now known in the publishing world, Goldsmith began 
to find casual employment in various quarters ; among others 
he wrote occasionally for the " Literary Magazine," a produc- 
tion set on foot by Mr. John Newbery, bookseller, St. Paul's 
5 Churchyard, renowned in nursery literature throughout the 
latter half of the last century for his picture-books for chil- 
dren. Newbery was a worthy, intelligent, kind-hearted man, 
and a seasonable, though cautious friend to authors, relieving 
them with small loans when in pecuniary difficulties, though 

lo always taking care to be well repaid by the labor of their 
pens. Goldsmith introduces him in a humorous yet friendly 
manner in his novel of the "Vicar of Wakefield." "This 
person was no other than the philanthropic bookseller in 
St. Paul's Churchyard, who has written so many little books 

15 for children ; he called himself their friend ; but he was the 
friend of all mankind. He was no sooner alighted but he 
was in haste to be gone ; for he was ever on business of 
importance, and was at that time actually compiling mate- 
rials for the history of one Mr. Thomas Trip. I immediately 

20 recollected this good-natured man's red-pimpled face." 

Besides his literary job-work. Goldsmith also resumed his 
medical practice, but with very trifling success. The scanti- 
ness of his purse still obliged him to live in obscure lodgings 
somewhere in the vicinity of Salisbury Square, Fleet Street; 

25 but his extended acquaintance and rising importance caused 
him to consult appearances. He adopted an expedient, then 
very common, and still practised in London among those 

72 



KEEPING UP APPEARANCES 73 

who have to tread the narrow path between pride and pov- 
erty : while he burrowed in lodgings suited to his means, he 
" hailed," as it is termed, from the Temple Exchange Coffee- 
House near Temple Bar. Here he received his medical 
calls ; hence he dated his letters ; and here he passed much 5 
of his leisure hours, conversing with the frequenters of the 
place. "Thirty pounds a year," said a poor Irish painter, 
who understood the art of shifting, " is enough to enable a 
man to live in London without being contemptible. Ten 
pounds will find him in clothes and linen ; he can live in a 10 
garret on eighteen pence a week ; hail from a coffee-house, 
where, by occasionally spending threepence, he may pass 
some hours each day in good company ; he may breakfast 
on bread and milk for a penny ; dine for sixpence ; do with- 
out supper; and on dea?i-shirt-day he may go abroad and 15 
pay visits." 

Goldsmith seems to have taken a leaf from this poor devil's 
manual in respect to the coffee-house at least. Indeed, coffee- 
houses in those days were the resorts of wits and literati; 
where the topics of the day were gossiped over, and the 20 
affairs of literature and the drama discussed and criticised. 
In this way he enlarged the circle of his intimacy, which 
now embraced several names of notoriety. 

Do we want a picture of Goldsmith's experience in this 
part of his career 1 we have it in his observations on the life 25 
of an author in the " Inquiry into the State of Polite Learn- 
ing," published some years afterwards. 

"The author, unpatronized by the great, has naturally 
recourse to the bookseller. There cannot, perhaps, be imag- 
ined a combination more prejudicial to taste than this. It 30 
is the interest of the one to allow as little for writing, and 
for the other to write as much as possible; accordingly, 
tedious compilations and periodical magazines are the result 
of their joint endeavors. In these circumstances the author 



74 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

bids adieu to fame ; writes for bread ; and for that only 
imagination is seldom called in. He sits down to address 
the venal Muse with the most phlegmatic apathy; and, as 
we are told of the Russian, courts his mistress by falling 
5 asleep in her lap." 

Again. "Those who are unacquainted with the world are 
apt to fancy the man of wit as leading a very agreeable 
life. They conclude, perhaps, that he is attended with silent 
admiration, and dictates to the rest of mankind with all the 

10 eloquence of conscious superiority. Very different is his 
present situation. He is called an author, and all know that 
an author is a thing only to be laughed at. His person, 
not his jest, becomes the mirth of the company. At his 
approach the most fat, unthinking face brightens into mali- 

15 cious meaning. Even aldermen laugh, and avenge on him 

the ridicule which was lavished on their forefathers 

The poet's poverty is a standing topic of contempt. His 
writing for bread is an unpardonable offence. Perhaps of 
all mankind, an author in these times is used most hardly. 

20 We keep him poor, and yet revile his poverty. We reproach 

him for living by his wit, and yet allow him no other means 

to live. His taking refuge in garrets and cellars has of late 

been violently objected to him, and that by men who, I have 

' hope, are more apt to pity than insult his distress. Is pov- 

25 erty a careless fault ? No doubt he knows how to prefer a 
bottle of champagne to the nectar of the neighboring ale- 
house, or a venison pasty to a plate of potatoes. Want of 
delicacy is not in him, but in those who deny him the oppor- 
tunity of making an elegant choice. Wit certainly is the 

30 property of those who have it, nor should we be displeased 
if it is the only property a man sometimes has. We must 
not underrate him who uses it for subsistence, and flees 
from the ingratitude of the age, even to a bookseller for 
redress." .... 



MISERIES OF AUTHORSHIP 75 

" If the author be necessary among us, let us treat him 
with proper consideration as a child of the public, not as a 
rent-charge on the community. And indeed a child of the 
public he is in all respects ; for while so well able to direct 
others, how incapable is he frequently found of guiding 5 
himself. His simphcity exposes him to all the insidious 
approaches of cunning : his sensibility, to the slightest inva- 
sions of contempt. Though possessed of fortitude to stand 
unmoved the expected bursts of an earthquake, yet of feel- 
ings so exquisitely poignant, as to agonize under the slightest 10 
disappointment. Broken rest, tasteless meals, and causeless 
anxieties shorten life and render it unfit for active employ- 
ments ; prolonged vigils and intense applications still far- 
ther contract his span, and make his time glide insensibly 
away." 15 

While poor Goldsmith was thus struggling with the diffi- 
culties and discouragements which in those days beset the 
path of an author, his friends in Ireland received accounts 
of his literary success and of the distinguished acquaint- 
ances he was making. This was enough to put the wise 20 
heads at Lissoy and Ballymahon in a ferment of conjec- 
tures. With the exaggerated notions of provincial relatives 
concerning the family great man in the metropolis, some of 
Goldsmith's poor kindred pictured him to themselves seated 
in high places, clothed in purple and fine linen, and hand 25 
and glove with the givers of gifts and dispensers of patron- 
age. Accordingly, he was one day surprised at the sudden 
apparition, in his miserable lodging, of his younger brother 
Charles, a raw youth of twenty-one, endowed with a double 
share of the family heedlessness, and who expected to be 30 
forthwith helped into some snug by-path to fortune by one 
or other of Oliver's great friends. Charles was sadly dis- 
concerted on learning that, so far from being able to provide 
for others, his brother could scarcely take care of himself. 



76 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

He looked round with a rueful eye on the poet's quar- 
ters, and could not help expressing his surprise and disap- 
pointment at finding him no better off. "All in good time, 
my dear boy," replied poor Goldsmith, with infinite good- 
5 humor ; " I shall be richer by-and-by. Addison, let me tell 
you, wrote his poem of the ' Campaign ' in a garret in the 
Haymarket, three stories high, and you see I am not come 
to that yet, for I have only got to the second story." 
Charles Goldsmith did not remain long to embarrass his 

lo brother in London. With the same roving disposition and 
inconsiderate temper of Oliver, he suddenly departed in an 
humble capacity to seek his fortune in the West Indies, and 
nothing was heard of him for above thirty years, when, after 
having been given up as dead by his friends, he made his 

15 reappearance in England. 

Shortly after his departure, Goldsmith wrote a letter to his 
brother-in-law, Daniel Hodson, Esq., of which the following is 
an extract ; it was partly intended, no doubt, to dissipate any 
further illusions concerning his fortunes which might float on 

20 the magnificent imagination of his friends in Ballymahon. 
" I suppose you desire to know my present situation. As 
there is nothing in it at which I should blush or which man- 
kind could censure, I see no reason for making it a secret. 
In short, by a very little practice as a physician, and a very 

25 little reputation as a poet, I make a shift to live. Nothing 
is more apt to introduce us to the gates of the Muses than 
poverty; but it were well if they only left us at the door. 
The mischief is, they sometimes choose to give us their 
company to the entertainment ; and want, instead of being 

30 gentleman-usher, often turns master of the ceremonies. 

" Thus, upon learning I write, no doubt you imagine I 
starve ; and the name of an author naturally reminds you of 
a garret. In this particular I do not think proper to unde- 
ceive my friends. But, whether I eat or starve, live in a 



LETTER TO HODSON 7/ 

first floor or four pairs of stairs high, I still remember them 
with ardor ; nay, my very country comes in for a share 
of my affection. Unaccountable fondness for country, this 
maladie du pais, as the French call it ! Unaccountable that 
he should still have an affection for a place, who never, 5 
when in it, received above common civility ; who never 
brought anything out of it except his brogue and his blun- 
ders. Surely my affection is equally ridiculous with the 
Scotchman's, who refused to be cured of the itch because it 
made him unco' thoughtful of his wife and bonny Inverary. 10 

"But, now, to be serious: let me ask myself what gives 
me a wish to see Ireland again. The country is a fine one, 
perhaps .'' No. There are good company in Ireland .'* No. 
The conversation there is generally made up of a smutty 
toast or a bawdy song; the vivacity supported by some 15 
humble cousin, who had just folly enough to earn his din- 
ner. Then, perhaps, there's more wit and learning among 
the Irish .? Oh, Lord, no ! There has been more money 
spent in the encouragement of the Padareen mare there one 
season, than given in rewards to learned men since the time 20 
of Usher. All their productions in learning amount to per- 
haps a translation, or a few tracts in divinity ; and all their 
productions in wit to just nothing at all. Why the plague, 
then, so fond of Ireland? Then, all at once, because you, 
my dear friend, and a few more who are exceptions to the 25 
general picture, have a residence there. This it is that 
gives me all the pangs I feel in separation. I confess I 
carry this spirit sometimes to the souring the pleasures I 
at present possess. If I go to the opera, where Signora 
Columba pours out all the mazes of melody, I sit and sigh 30 
for Lissoy fireside, and Johnny Armstrong's ' Last Good- 
night ' from Peggy Golden. If I climb Hampstead Hill, 
than where nature never exhibited a more magnificent pros- 
pect, I confess it fine ; but then I had rather be placed on 



yd> OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

the little mount before Lissoy gate, and there take in, to 
me, the most pleasing horizon in nature. 

" Before Charles came hither, my thoughts sometimes 
found refuge from severer .studies among my friends in 
5 Ireland. I fancied strange revolutions at home ; but I find 
it was the rapidity of my own motion that gave an imaginary 
one to objects really at rest. No alterations there. Some 
friends, he tells me, are still lean, but very rich ; others very 
fat, but still very poor. Nay, all the news I hear of you is, 

10 that you sally out in visits among the neighbors, and some- 
times make a migration from the blue bed to the brown. 
I could from my heart wish that you and she (Mrs. Hod- 
son), and Lissoy and Ballymahon, and all of you, would 
fairly make a migration into Middlesex; though, upon second 

15 thoughts, this might be attended with a few inconveniences. 
Therefore, as the mountain will not come to Mohammed, 
why Mohammed shall go to the mountain ; or, to speak 
plain English, as you cannot conveniently pay me a visit, 
if next summer I can contrive to be absent six weeks from 

20 London, I shall spend three of them among my friends in 
Ireland. But first, believe me, my design is purely to visit, 
and neither to cut a figure nor levy contributions ; neither 
to excite envy nor solicit favor ; in fact, my circumstances 
are adapted to neither. I am too poor to be gazed at, and 

25 too rich to need assistance." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Goldsmith's struggle for recognition among the publishers. 

2. What adverb does Irving use most frequently in order to avoid 
specific statements about how much time is elapsing in the biography ? 

3. Is the phrase '* much of his leisure hours " good English ? 



CHAPTER IX 

Hackney Authorship — Thoughts of Literary Suicide — Return to Peckham — 
Oriental Projects — Literary Enterprise to raise Funds — Letter to Edward 
Mills ; to Robert Bryanton — Death of Uncle Contarine — Letter to 
Cousin Jane. 

For some time Goldsmith continued to write miscella- 
neously for reviews and other periodical publications, but 
without making any decided hit, to use a technical term. 
Indeed as yet he appeared destitute of the strong excitement 
of Hterary ambition, and wrote only on the spur of necessity 5 
and at the urgent importunity of his bookseller. His indo- 
lent and truant disposition, ever averse from labor and 
delighting in holiday, had to be scourged up to its task; 
still it was this very truant disposition which threw an un- 
conscious charm over everything he wrote; bringing with it 10 
honeyed thoughts and pictured images which had sprung 
up in his mind in the sunny hours of idleness : these effu- 
sions, dashed off on compulsion in the exigency of the 
moment, were published anonymously; so that they made 
no collective impression on the public, and reflected no 15 
fame on the name of their author. 

In an essay published some time subsequently in the 
" Bee," Goldsmith adverts in his own humorous way to his 
impatience at the tardiness with which his desultory and 
unacknowledged essays crept into notice. " I was once 20 
induced," says he, "to show my indignation against the 
public by discontinuing my efforts to please ; and was 
bravely resolved, like Raleigh, to vex them by burning my 
manuscripts in a passion. Upon reflection, however, I con- 
sidered what set or body of people would be displeased at 25 

79 



8o OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

my rashness. The sun, after so sad an accident, might 
shine next morning as bright as usual ; men might laugh 
and sing the next day, and transact business as before ; and 
not a single creature feel any regret but myself. Instead of 
5 having Apollo in mourning or the Muses in a fit of the 
spleen; instead of having the learned world apostrophizing 
at my untimely decease ; perhaps all Grub Street might 
laugh at my fate, and self-approving dignity be unable to 
shield me from ridicule." 

lo Circumstances occurred about this time to give a new direc- 
tion to Goldsmith's hopes and schemes. Having resumed 
for a brief period the superintendence of the Peckham 
school, during a fit of illness of Dr. Milner, that gentleman, 
in requital for his timely services, promised to use his influ- 

15 ence with a friend, an East-India director, to procure him a 
medical appointment in India. 

There was every reason to believe that the influence of 
Dr. Milner would be effectual ; but how was Goldsmith to 
find the ways and means of fitting himself out for a voyage 

20 to the Indies? In this emergency he was driven to a more 
extended exercise of the pen than he had yet attempted. 
His skirmishing among books as a reviewer, and his dispu- 
tatious ramble among the schools and universities and 
literati of the Continent, had filled his mind with facts and 

25 observations which he now set about digesting into a treatise 
of some magnitude, to be entitled "An Inquiry into the 
Present State of Polite Learning in Europe." As the work 
grew on his hands, his sanguine temper ran ahead of his 
labors. Feeling secure of success in England, he was 

30 anxious to forestall the piracy of the Irish press; for as yet, 
the union not having taken place, the English law of copy- 
right did not extend to the other side of the Irish channel. 
He wrote, therefore, to his friends in Ireland, urging them 
to circulate his proposals for his contemplated work, and 



LETTER TO MILLS 8 I 

obtain subscriptions payable in advance ; the money to 
be transmitted to a. Mr. Bradley, an eminent bookseller in 
Dublin, who would give a receipt for it and be accountable 
for the delivery of the books. The letters written by him 
on this occasion are worthy of copious citation as being full 5 
of character and interest. One was to his relative and col- 
lege intimate, Edward Mills, who had studied for the bar, 
but was now living at ease on his estate at Roscommon. 
" You have quitted," writes Goldsmith, " the plan of life 
which you once intended to pursue, and given up ambition 10 
for domestic tranquillity. I cannot avoid feeling some regret 
that one of my few friends has declined a pursuit in which 
he had every reason to expect success. I have often let my 
fancy loose when you were the subject, and have imagined 
you gracing the bench, or thundering at the bar : while I 15 
have taken no small pride to myself, and whispered to all 
that I could come near, that this was my cousin. Instead 
of this, it seems, you are merely contented to be a happy 
man ; to be esteemed by your acquaintances ; to cultivate 
your paternal acres ; to take unmolested a nap under one of 20 
your own hawthorns, or in Mrs. Mills's bedchamber, which, 
even a poet must confess, is rather the more comfortable 
place of the two. But, however your resolutions may be 
altered with regard to your situation in life, I persuade my- 
self they are unalterable with respect to your friends in it. 25 
I cannot think the world has taken such entire possession 
of that heart (once so susceptible of friendship) as not to 
have left a corner there for a friend or two, but I flatter 
myself that even I have a place among the number. This 
I have a claim to from the similitude of our dispositions ; 30 
or setting that aside, I can demand it as a right by the most 
equitable law of nature: I mean that of retaliation; for 
indeed you have more than your share in mine. I am a man 
of few professions ; and yet at this very instant I cannot 



82 ' OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

avoid the painful apprehension that my present professions 
(which speak not half my feelings) should be considered 
only as a pretext to cover a request, as I have a request to 
make. No, my dear Ned, I know you are too generous to 
5 think so, and you know me too proud to stoop to unnecessary 
insincerity; — I have a request, it is true, to make; but as I 
know to whom I am a petitioner, I make it without dif- 
fidence or confusion. It is in short this : I am going to 
publish a book in London," &c. The residue of the letter 

10 specifies the nature of the request, which was merely to 
aid in circulating his proposals and obtaining subscriptions. 
The letter of the poor author, however, was unattended to 
and unacknowledged by the prosperous Mr. Mills, of Ros- 
common, though in after-years he was proud to claim relation- 

15 ship to Dr. Goldsmith, when he had risen to celebrity. 

Another of Goldsmith's letters was to Robert Bryanton, 
with whom he had long ceased to be in correspondence. 
" I believe," writes he, " that they who are drunk, or out 
of their wits, fancy everybody else in the same condition. 

20 Mine is a friendship that neither distance nor time can 
efface, which is probably the reason that, for the soul of me, 
I can't avoid thinking yours of the same complexion; and 
yet I have many reasons for being of a contrary opinion, 
else why, in so long an absence, was I never made a part- 

25 ner in your concerns? To hear of your success would have 
given me the utmost pleasure ; and a communication of your 
very disappointments would divide the uneasiness I too fre- 
quently feel for my own. Indeed, my dear Bob, you don't 
conceive how unkindly you have treated one whose circum- 

30 stances afford him few prospects of pleasure, except those 
reflected from the happiness of his friends. However, since 
you have not let me hear from you, I have in some meas- 
ure disappointed your neglect by frequently thinking of you. 
Every day or so I remember the calm anecdotes of your life, 



LETTER TO BRYANTON 83 

from the fireside to the easy-chair ; recall the various adven- 
tures that first cemented our friendship ; the school, the col- 
lege, or the tavern ; preside in fancy over your cards ; and 
am displeased at your bad play when the rubber goes against 
you, though not with all that agony of soul as when I was 5 
once your partner. Is it not strange that two of such like 
affections should be so much separated, and so differently 
employed as we are ? You seem placed at the centre of for- 
tune's wheel, and, let it revolve ever so fast, are insensible 
of the motion. I seem to have been tied to the circumference, 10 
and whirled disagreeably around, as if on a whirligig." 

He then runs into a whimsical and extravagant tirade 
about his future prospects. The wonderful career of fame 
and fortune that awaits him, and after indulging in all kinds 
of humorous gasconades, concludes: "Let me, then, stop my 15 
fancy to take a view of my future self, — and, as the boys 
say, light down to see myself on horseback. Well, now that 
I am down, where the d — 1 is II Oh gods ! gods ! here in • 
a garret, writing for bread, and expecting to be dunned for 
a milk score ! " 20 

He would, on this occasion, have doubtless written to his 
uncle Contarine, but that generous friend was sunk into a 
helpless hopeless state from which death soon released him. 

Cut off thus from the kind cooperation of his uncle, he 
addresses a letter to his daughter Jane, the companion of 25 
his school-boy and happy days, now the wife of Mr. Lawder. 
The object was to secure her interest with her husband in 
promoting the circulation of his proposals. The letter is full 
of character. 

" If you should ask," he begins, " why, in an interval of 3° 
so many years, you never heard from me, permit me, madam, 
to ask the same question. I have the best excuse in recrim- 
ination. I wrote to Kilmore from Leyden in Holland, from 
Louvain in Flanders, and Rouen in France, but received 



84 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

no answer. To what could I attribute this silence but to 
displeasure or forgetfulness ? Whether I was right in my 
conjecture I do not pretend to determine ; but this I must 
ingenuously own, that I have a thousand times in my turn 

5 endeavored to forget them^ whom I could not but look upon 
as forgetting me. I have attempted to blot their names from 
my memory, and, I confess it, spent whole days in efforts to 
tear their image from my heart. Could I have succeeded, 
you had not now been troubled with this renewal of a dis- 

lo continued correspondence ; but, as every effort the restless 
make to procure sleep serves but to keep them waking, 
all my attempts contributed to impress what I would forget 
deeper on my imagination. But this subject I would will- 
ingly turn from, and yet, 'for the soul of me,' I can't till I 

15 have said all. I was, madam, when I discontinued writing 
to Kilmore, in such circumstances, that all my endeavors to 
continue your regards might be attributed to wrong motives. 
My letters might be looked upon as the petitions of a beggar, 
and not the offerings of a friend ; while all my professions, 

20 instead of being considered as the result of disinterested 
esteem, might be ascribed to venal insincerity. I believe, 
indeed, you had too much generosity to place them in such 
a light, but I could not bear even the shadow of such a sus- 
picion. The most delicate friendships are always most sen- 

25 sible of the slightest invasion, and the strongest jealousy is 
ever attendant on the warmest regard. I could not — I own 
I could not — continue a correspondence in which every 
acknowledgment for past favors might be considered as an 
indirect request for future ones; and where it might be 

30 thought I gave my heart from a motive of gratitude alone, 
when I was conscious of having bestowed it on much more 
disinterested principles. It is true, this conduct might have 
been simple enough; but yourself must confess it was in char- 
acter. Those who know me at all, know that I have always 



LETTER TO COUSIN JANE 85 

been actuated by different principles from the rest of man- 
kind: and while none regarded the interest of his friend more, 
no man on earth regarded his own less. I have often affected 
bluntness to avoid the imputation of flattery ; have frequently 
seemed to overlook those merits too obvious to escape notice, 5 
and pretended disregard to those instances of good nature and 
good sense, which I could not fail tacitly to applaud ; and all 
this lest I should be ranked among the grinning tribe, who 
say ' very true ' to all that is said ; who fill a vacant chair at 
a tea-table ; whose narrow souls never moved in a wider cir- 10 
cle than the circumference of a guinea; and who had rather 
be reckoning the money in your pocket than the virtue in 
your breast. All this, I say, I have done, and a thousand 
other very silly, though very disinterested, things in my time ; 

and for all which no soul cares a farthing about me Is 15 

it to be wondered that he should once in his life forget you, 
who has been all his life forgetting himself .'' However, it 
is probable you may one of these days see me turned into a 
perfect hunks, and as dark and intricate as a mouse-hole. 
I have already given my landlady orders for an entire reform 20 
in the state of my finances. I declaim against hot suppers, 
drink less sugar in my tea, and check my grate with brick- 
bats. Instead of hanging my room with pictures, I intend to 
adorn it with maxims of frugality. Those will make pretty 
furniture enough, and won't be a bit too expensive ; for I 25 
will draw them all out with my own hands, and my landlady's 
daughter shall frame them with the parings of my black 
waistcoat. Each maxim is to be inscribed on a sheet of clean 
paper, and wrote with my best pen ; of which the following 
will serve as a specimen. Look sharp: Mind the main chance : 30 
Money is money now : If you have a thousand poimds yoti can 
put your hands by your sides, and say you are worth a thou- 
sand pounds every day of the year : Take a farthifig from a 
hundred and it will be a hundred no longer. Thus, which way 



S6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

soever I turn my eyes, they are sure to meet one of those 
friendly monitors ; and as we are told of an actor who hung 
his room round with looking-glass to correct the defects of 
his person, my apartment shall be furnished in a peculiar 
5 manner, to correct the errors of my mind. Faith ! madam, 
1 heartily wish to be rich, if it were only for this reason, to 
say without a blush how much I esteem you. But, alas ! 
I have many a fatigue to encounter before that happy time 
comes, when your poor old simple friend may again give a 

lo loose to the luxuriance of his nature ; sitting by Kilmore fire- 
side, recount the various adventures of a hard-fought life ; 
laugh over the follies of the day ; join his flute to your harp- 
sichord ; and forget that ever he starved in those streets 
where Butler and Otway starved before him. And now I 

15 mention those great names — my Uncle! he is no more that 
soul of fire as when I once knew him. Newton and Swift 
grew dim with age as well as he. But what shall I say ? 
His mind was too active an inhabitant not to disorder the 
feeble mansion of its abode ; for the richest jewels soonest 

20 wear their settings. Yet, who but the fool would lament his 
condition ! He now forgets the calamities of life. Perhaps 
indulgent Heaven has given him a foretaste of that tran- 
quillity here, which he so well deserves hereafter. But I 
must come to business ; for business, as one of my maxims 

25 tells me, must be minded or lost. I am going to publish 
in London a book entitled " The Present State of Taste and 
Literature in Europe." The booksellers in Ireland republish 
every performance there without making the author any con- 
sideration. I would, in this respect, disappoint their avarice, 

30 and have all the profits of my labor to myself. I must, there- 
fore, request Mr. Lawder to circulate among his friends and 
acquaintances a hundred of my proposals, which I have given 
the bookseller, Mr. Bradley, in Dame Street, directions to 
send to him. If, in pursuance of such circulation, he should 



LETTER TO COUSIN JANE 8/ 

receive any subscriptions, I entreat, when collected, they may 
be sent to Mr. Bradley, as aforesaid, who will give a receipt, 
and be accountable for the work, or a return of the sub- 
scription. If this request (which, if it be complied with, will 
in some measure be an encouragement to a man of learning) 5 
should be disagreeable or troublesome, I would not press it; 
for I would be the last man on earth to have my labors go 
a-begging; but if I know Mr. Lawder (and sure I ought to 
know him), he will accept the employment with pleasure. All 
I can say — if he writes a book, I will get him two hundred 10 
subscribers, and those of the best wits in Europe. Whether 
this request is complied with or not, I shall not be uneasy; but 
there is one petition I must make to him and to you, which 
I solicit with the warmest ardor, and in which I cannot bear 
a refusal. I mean, dear madam, that I may be allowed to 15 
subscribe myself, your ever affectionate and obliged kinsman, 
Oliver Goldsmith. Now see how I blot and blunder, when 
I am asking a favor." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. What did Goldsmith say in his letters of this time? Does it 
seem strange that the letters should have been preserved ? Were they 
probably written with an eye to future publication ? 

2. Why did Goldsmith wish a medical appointment in India ? Was 
he well qualified to undertake such work ? 

3. Of what value are the maxims written by Goldsmith to his cousin 
Jane ? 

4. What work did many booksellers of Goldsmith's time perform 
beside selling books ? 



CHAPTER X 

Oriental Appointment; and Disappointment — Examination at the College of 
Surgeons — How to procure a Suit of Clothes — Fresh Disappointment 
— A Tale of Distress — The Suit of Clothes in Pawn — Punishment for 
doing an Act of Charity — Gayeties of Green Arbor Court — Letter to his 
Brother — Life of Voltaire — Scroggin, an Attempt at mock-heroic Poetry. 

While Goldsmith was yet laboring at his treatise, the 
promise made him by Dr. Milner was carried into effect, 
and he was actually appointed physician and surgeon to one 
of the factories on the coast of Coromandel. His imagina- 

5 tion was immediately on fire with visions of Oriental wealth 
and magnificence. It is true the salary did not exceed one 
hundred pounds, but then, as appointed physician, he would 
have the exclusive practice of the place, amounting to one 
thousand pounds per annum ; with advantages to be derived 

10 from trade and from the high interest of money — twenty 
per cent.; in a word, for once in his life, the road to fortune 
lay broad and straight before him. 

Hitherto, in his correspondence with his friends, he had 
said nothing of his India scheme ; but now he imparted to 

15 them his brilliant prospects, urging the importance of their 
circulating his proposals and obtaining him subscriptions 
and advances on his forthcoming work, to furnish funds for 
his outfit. 

In the mean time he had to task that poor drudge, his 

20 Muse, for present exigencies. Ten pounds were demanded 
for his appointment-warrant. Other expenses pressed hard 
upon him. Fortunately, though as yet unknown to fame, 
his literary capability was known to " the trade," and the coin- 
age of his brain passed current in Grub Street. Archibald 

88 



ORIENTAL APPOINTMENT 89 

Hamilton, proprietor of the " Critical Review," the rival 
to that of Griffiths, readily made him a small advance on 
receiving three articles for his periodical. His purse thus 
slenderly replenished, Goldsmith paid for his warrant ; wiped 
off the score of his milkmaid ; abandoned his garret, and 5 
moved into a shabby first floor in a forlorn court near the 
Old Bailey ; there to await the time of his migration to the 
magnificent coast of Coromandel. 

Alas ! poor Goldsmith ! ever doomed to disappointment. 
Early in the gloomy month of November, that month of fog 10 
and despondency in London, he learnt the shipwreck of his 
hope. The great Coromandel enterprise fell through; or 
rather the post promised to him was transferred to some 
other candidate. The cause of this disappointment it is now 
impossible to ascertain. The death of his quasi patron, 15 
Dr. Milner, which happened about this time, may have had 
some effect in producing it ; or there may have been some 
heedlessness and blundering on his own part; or some 
obstacle arising from his insuperable indigence; — whatever 
may have been the cause, he never mentioned it, which 20 
gives some ground to surmise that he himself was to blame. 
His friends learnt with surprise that he had suddenly relin- 
quished his appointment to India, about which he had raised 
such sanguine expectations : some accused him of fickle- 
ness and caprice ; others supposed him unwilling to tear him- 25 
self from the growing fascinations of the literary society of 
London. 

In the mean time, cut down in his hopes, and humiliated 
in his pride by the failure of his Coromandel scheme, he 
sought, without consul-ting his friends, to be examined at 30 
the College of Physicians for the humble situation of hos- 
pital mate. Even here poverty stood in his way. It was 
necessary to appear in a decent garb before the examining 
committee ; but how was he to do so ? He was literally out 



go OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

at elbows as well as out of cash. Here again the Muse, 
so often jilted and neglected by him, came to his aid. In 
consideration of four articles furnished to the " Monthly 
Review," Griffiths, his old task-master, was to become his 
5 security to the tailor for a suit of clothes. Goldsmith said 
he wanted them but for a single occasion, upon which 
depended his appointment to a situation in the army ; as 
soon as that temporary purpose was served they would 
either be returned or paid for. The books to be reviewed 

10 were accordingly lent to him ; the Muse was again set to 
her compulsory drudgery ; the articles were scribbled off 
and sent to the bookseller, and the clothes came in due 
time from the tailor. 

From the records of the College of Surgeons, it appears 

15 that Goldsmith underwent his examination at Surgeons' Hall, 
on the 2ist of December, 1758. Either from a confusion 
of mind incident to sensitive and imaginative persons on 
such occasions, or from a real want of surgical science, 
which last is extremely probable, he failed in his examina- 

20 tion, and was rejected as unqualified. The effect of such a 
rejection was to disqualify him for every branch of public 
service, though he might have claimed a reexamination, 
after the interval of a few months devoted to further study. 
Such a reexamination he never attempted, nor did he ever 

25 communicate his discomfiture to any of his friends. 

On Christmas-Day, but four days after his rejection by 
the College of Surgeons, while he was suffering under the 
mortification of defeat and disappointment, and hard pressed 
for means of subsistence, he was surprised by the entrance 

30 into his room of the poor woman of whom he hired his 
wretched apartment, and to whom he owed some small 
arrears of rent. She had a piteous tale of distress, and 
was clamorous in her afflictions. Her husband had been 
arrested in the night for debt, and thrown into prison. This 



PUNISHMENT FOR AN ACT OF CHARITY 91 

was too much for the quick feelings of Goldsmith; he was 
ready at any time to help the distressed, but in this instance 
he was himself in some measure a cause of the distress. 
What was to be done? He had no money, it is true; but 
there hung the new suit of clothes in which he had stood 5 
his unlucky examination at Surgeons' Hall. Without giving 
himself time for reflection, he sent it off to the pawnbroker's, 
and raised thereon a sufficient sum to pay off his own debt, 
and to release his landlord from prison. 

Under the same pressure of penury and despondency, he 10 
borrowed from a neighbor a pittance to relieve his imme- 
diate wants, leaving as a security the books which he had 
recently reviewed. In the midst of these straits and harass- 
ments, he received a letter from Griffiths, demanding, in 
peremptory terms, the return of the clothes and books, or 15 
immediate payment for the same. It appears that he had 
discovered the identical suit at the pawnbroker's. The 
reply of Goldsmith is not known ; it was out of his power 
to furnish either the clothes or the money ; but he probably 
offered once more to make the Muse stand his bail. His 20 
reply only increased the ire of the wealthy man of trade, 
and drew from him another letter still more harsh than the 
first ; using the epithets of knave and sharper, and contain- 
ing threats of prosecution and a prison. 

The following letter from poor Goldsmith gives the most 25 
touching picture of an inconsiderate but sensitive man, har- 
assed by care, stung by humiliations, and driven almost to 
despondency. 

" Sir, — I know of no misery but a jail to which my own 
imprudences and your letter seem to point. I have seen 30 
it inevitable these three or four weeks, and, by heavens ! 
request it as a favor — as a favor that may prevent some- 
thing more fatal. I have been some years struggling with 



92 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

a wretched being — with all that contempt that indigence 
brings with it — with all those passions which make con- 
tempt insupportable. What, then, has a jail that is for- 
midable ? I shall at least have the society of wretches, and 
5 such is to me true society. I tell you, again and again, that 
I am neither able nor willing to pay you a farthing, but I 
will be punctual to any appointment you or the tailor shall 
make ; thus far, at least, I do not act the sharper, since, 
unable to pay my own debts one way, I would generally 

10 give some security another. No, sir ; had I been a sharper 
— had I been possessed of less good-nature and native gener- 
osity, I might surely now have been in better circumstances. 
" I am guilty, I own, of meannesses which poverty unavoid- 
ably brings with it : my reflections are filled with repentance 

15 for my imprudence, but not with any remorse for being a 
villain : that may be a character you unjustly charge me' 
with. Your books, I can assure you, are neither pawned 
nor sold, but in the custody of a friend, from whom my 
necessities obliged me to borrow some money : whatever 

20 becomes of my person, you shall have them in a month. It 
is very possible both the reports you have heard and your 
own suggestions may have brought you false information 
with respect to my character ; it is very possible that the 
man whom you now regard with detestation may inwardly 

25 burn with grateful resentment. It is very possible that, 
upon a second perusal of the letter I sent you, you may see 
the workings of a mind strongly agitated with gratitude and 
jealousy. If such circumstances should appear, at least 
spare invective till my book with Mr. Dodsley shall be pub- 

30 lished, and then, perhaps, you may see the bright side of 
a mind, when my professions shall not appear the dictates 
of necessity, but of choice. 

" You seem to think Dr. Milner knew me not. Perhaps 
so ; but he was a man I shall ever honor ; but I have 



GREEN ARBOR COURT 93 

friendships only with the dead ! I ask pardon for taking 
up so much time ; nor shall I add to it by any other pro- 
fessions than that I am, sir, your humble servant, 

" Oliver Goldsmith. 

" P. S. — I shall expect impatiently the result of your 5 
resolutions." 

The dispute between the poet and the publisher was 
afterward imperfectly adjusted, and it would appear that the 
clothes were paid for by a short compilation advertised by 
Griffiths in the course of the following month ; but the 10 
parties were never really friends afterward, and the writ- 
ings of Goldsmith were harshly and unjustly treated in the , 
" Monthly Review." 

We have given the preceding anecdote in detail, as 
furnishing one of the many instances in which Goldsmith's 15 
prompt and benevolent impulses outran all prudent fore- 
cast, and involved him in difficulties and disgraces which a 
more selfish man would have avoided. The pawning of the 
clothes, charged upon him as a crime by the grinding book- 
seller, and apparently admitted by him as one of " the 20 
meannesses which poverty unavoidably brings with it," 
resulted, as we have shown, from a tenderness of heart and 
generosity of hand, in which another man would have glo- 
ried ; but these were such natural elements with him, that 
he was unconscious of their merit. It is a pity that wealth 25 
does not oftener bring such " meannesses " in its train. 

And now let us be indulged in a few particulars about 
these lodgings in which Goldsmith was guilty of this thought- 
less act of benevolence. They were in a very shabby house, 
No. 12 Green Arbor Court, between the Old Bailey and Fleet 30 
Market. An old woman was still living in 1820 who was a 
relative of the identical landlady whom Goldsmith relieved 
by the money received from the pawnbroker. She was a 



94 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

child about seven years of age at the time that the poet 
rented his apartment of her relative, and used frequently to 
be at the house in Green Arbor Court. She was drawn 
there, in a great measure, by the good-humored kindness of 
5 Goldsmith, who was always exceedingly fond of the society 
of children. He used to assemble those of the family in his 
room, give them cakes and sweetmeats, and set them dan- 
cing to the sound of his flute. He was very friendly to those 
around him, and cultivated a kind of intimacy with a watch- 

10 maker in the Court, who possessed much native wit and 
humor. He passed most of the day, however, in his room, 
and only went out in the evenings. His days were no doubt 
devoted to the drudgery of the pen, and it would appear that 
he occasionally found the booksellers urgent task-masters. 

15 On one occasion a visitor was shown up to his room, and 
immediately their voices were heard in high altercation, and 
the key was turned within the lock. The landlady, at first, 
was disposed to go to the assistance of her lodger ; but a 
calm succeeding, she forbore to interfere. 

20 Late in the evening the door was unlocked; a supper 
ordered by the visitor from a neighboring tavern, and Gold- 
smith and his intrusive guest finished the evening in great 
good-humor. It was probably his old task-master Griffiths, 
whose press might have been waiting, and who found no 

•25 other mode of getting a stipulated task from Goldsmith than 
by locking him in, and staying by him until it was finished. 
But we have a more particular account of these lodgings 
in Green Arbor Court from the Rev. Thomas Percy, after- 
ward Bishop of Dromore, and celebrated for his relics of 

30 ancient poetry, his beautirful ballads, and other works. Dur- 
ing an occasional visit to London, he was introduced to 
Goldsmith by Grainger, and ever after continued one of 
his most steadfast and valued friends. The following is his 
description of the poet's squalid apartment : '' I called on 



GREEN ARBOR COURT 95 

Goldsmith at his lodgings in March, 1759, and found him 
writing his ' Inquiry,' in a miserable, dirty-looking room, in 
which there was but one chair ; and when, from civility, 
he resigned it to me, he himself was obliged to sit in the 
window. While we were conversing together, some one 5 
tapped gently at the door, and, being desired to come in, a 
poor, ragged little girl, of a very becoming demeanor, entered 
the room, and dropping a courtesy, said, ' My mamma sends 
her compliments, and begs the favor of you to lend her a 
chamber-pot full of coals.' " 10 

We are reminded in this anecdote of Goldsmith's picture 
of the lodgings of Beau Tibbs, and of the peep into the 
secrets of a make-shift establishment given to a visitor by 
the blundering old Scotch woman. 

" By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would 15 
permit us to ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously 
pleased to call the first floor down the chimney ; and, knock- 
ing at the door, a voice from within demanded 'Who's 
there ? '' My conductor answered that it was him. But this 
not satisfying the querist, the voice again repeated the 20 
demand, to which he answered louder than before ; and 
now the door was opened by an old woman with cautious 
reluctance. 

" When we got in, he welcomed me to his house with great 
ceremony ; and, turning to the old woman, asked where was 25 
her lady. ' Good, troth,' replied she, in a peculiar dialect, 
' she 's washing your twa shirts at the next door, because 
they have taken an oath against lending the tub any longer.' 
' My two shirts,' cried he, in a tone that faltered with con- 
fusion ; ' what does the idiot mean ? ' 'I ken what I mean 30 
weel enough,' replied the other ; ' she 's washing your twa 
shirts at the next door, because ' — ' Fire and fury ! no more 
of thy stupid explanations,' cried he ; 'go and inform her we 
have company. Were that Scotch hag to be forever in my 



96 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

family, she would never learn politeness, nor forget that 
absurd poisonous accent of hers, or testify the smallest speci- 
men of breeding or high life; and yet it is very surprising 
too, as I had her from a Parliament man, a friend of mine 

5 from the Highlands, one of the politest men in the world ; 
but that 's a secret.' " ^ 

Let us linger a little in Green Arbor Court, a place con- 
secrated by the genius and the poverty of Goldsmith, but 
recently obliterated in the course of modern improvements. 

lo The writer of this memoir visited it not many years since on 
a literary pilgrimage, and may be excused for repeating a 
description of it which he has heretofore inserted in another 
.publication. " It then existed in its pristine state, and was 
a small square of tall and miserable houses, the very intes- 

15 tines of which seemed turned inside out, to judge from the 
old garments and frippery that fluttered from every window. 
It appeared to be a region of washerwomen, and lines were 
stretched about the little square, on which clothes were dan- 
gling to dry. 

20 " Just as we entered the square, a scuffle took place between 
two viragoes about a disputed right to a wash-tub, and imme- 
diately the whole community was in a hubbub. Heads in 
mob-caps popped out of every window, and such a clamor, 
of tongues ensued that I was fain to stop my ears. Every 

25 amazon took part with one or other of the disputants, and 
brandished her arms, dripping with soapsuds, and fired away 
from her window as from the embrasure of a fortress ; while 
the screams of children nestled and cradled in every pro- 
creant chamber of this hive, waking with the noise, set up 

30 their shrill pipes to swell the general concert." ^ 

While in these forlorn quarters, suffering under extreme 
depression of spirits, caused by his failure at Surgeons' Hall, 

1 Citizen of the World, letter iv. 

2 Tales of a Traveller. 



LETTER TO HIS BROTHER HENRY 



97 



the disappointment of his hopes, and his harsh collisions 
with Griffiths, Goldsmith wrote the following letter to his 
brother Henry, some parts of which are most touchingly 
mournful. 

" Dear Sir, — 5 

"Your punctuality in answering a man whose trade is 
writing, is more than I had reason to expect; and yet you 
see me generally fill a whole sheet, which is all the recom- 
pense I can make for being so frequently troublesome. The 
behavior of Mr. Mills and Mr. Lawder is a little extraordi- lo 
nary. However, their answering neither you nor me is a 
sufficient indication of their disliking the employment which 
I assigned them. As their conduct is different from what 
I had expected, so I have made an alteration in mine. I 
shall, the beginning of next month, send over two hundred 15 
and fifty books,^ which are all that I fancy can be well sold 
among you, and I would have you make some distinction in 
the persons who have subscribed. The money, which will 
amount to sixty pounds, may be left with Mr. Bradley as 
soon as possible. I am not certain but I shall quickly have 20 
occasion for it. 

" I have met with no disappointment with respect to my 
East India voyage, nor are my resolutions altered ; though, 
at the same time, I must confess, it gives me some pain to 
think I am almost beginning the world at the age of thirty- 25 
one. Though I never had a day's sickness since I saw you, 
yet I am not that strong, active man you once knew me. 
You scarcely can conceive how much eight years of disap- 
pointment, anguish, and study have worn me down. If I 
remember right, you are seven or eight years older than me, 30 
yet I dare venture to say, that, if a stranger saw us both, he 

1 The " Inquiry into Polite Literature." His previous remarks apply to the 
subscription. 



98 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

would pay me the honors of seniority. Imagine to yourself 
a pale, melancholy visage, with two great wrinkles between 
the eyebrows, with an eye disgustingly severe, and a big wig, 
and you may have a perfect picture of my present appearance. 
5 On the other hand, I conceive you as perfectly sleek and 
healthy, passing many a happy day among your own children, 
or those who knew you a child. 

" Since I knew what it was to be a man, this is a pleasure 
I have not known. I have passed my days among a parcel 

lo of cool, designing beings, and have contracted all their sus- 
picious manner in my own behavior. I should actually be 
as unfit for the society of my friends at home, as I detest 
that which I am obliged to partake of here. I can now 
neither partake of the pleasure of a revel, or contribute to 

15 raise its jollity. I can neither laugh nor drink; have con- 
tracted a hesitating, disagreeable manner of speaking, and a 
visage that looks ill-nature itself ; in short, I have thought 
myself into a settled melancholy, and an utter disgust of all 
that life brings with it. Whence this romantic turn that all 

20 our family are possessed with ? Whence this love for every 
place and every country but that in which we reside — for 
every occupation but our own ? this desire of fortune, and 
yet this eagerness to dissipate } I perceive, my dear sir, 
that I am at intervals for indulging this splenetic manner, 

25 and following my own taste, regardless of yours. 

" The reasons you have given me for breeding up your 
son a scholar are judicious and convincing; I should, how- 
ever, be glad to know for what particular profession he is 
designed. If he be assiduous and divested of strong passions 

30 (for passions in youth always lead to pleasure), he may do 
very well in your college ; for it must be owned that the 
industrious poor have good encouragement there, perhaps 
better than in any other in Europe. But if he has ambition, 
strong passions, and an exquisite sensibility of contempt, do 



WORLDLY WISDOM 99 

not send him there, unless you have no other trade for him 
but your own. It is impossible to conceive how much may 
be done by proper education at home. A boy, for instance, 
who understands perfectly well Latin, French, arithmetic, 
and the principles of the civil law, and can write a fine hand, 5 
has an education that may qualify him for any undertaking; 
and these parts of learning should be carefully inculcated, 
let him be designed for whatever calling he will. 

'' Above all things, let him never touch a romance or 
novel : these paint beauty in colors more charming than 10 
nature, and describe happiness that man never tastes. How 
delusive, how destructive are those pictures of consummate 
bliss ! They teach the youthful mind to sigh after beauty 
and happiness that never existed; to despise the little good 
which fortune has mixed in our cup, by expecting more than 15 
she ever gave ; and, in general, take the word of a man who 
has seen the world, and who has studied human nature more 
by experience than precept ; take my word for it, I say, that 
books teach us very little of the world. The greatest merit 
in a state of poverty would only serve to make the possessor 20 
ridiculous — may distress, but cannot relieve him. Fru- 
gality, and even avarice, in the lower orders of mankind, 
are true ambition. These afford the only ladder for the poor 
to rise to preferment. Teach then, my dear sir, to your son, 
thrift and economy. Let his poor wandering uncle's example 25 
be placed before his eyes. I had learned from books to be 
disinterested and generous, before I was taught from expe- 
rience the necessity of being prudent. I had contracted the 
habits and notions of a philosopher, while I was exposing 
myself to the approaches of insidious cunning ; and often 30 
by being, even with my narrow finances, charitable to excess, 
I forgot the rules of justice, and placed myself in the very 
situation of the wretch who thanked me for my bounty. 
When I am in the remotest part of the world, tell him this, 
L.ofC. 



100 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

and perhaps he may improve from my example. But I find 
myself again falling into my gloomy habits of thinking. 

*' My mother, I am informed, is almost blind ; even though 
I had the utmost inclination to return home, under such 

5 circumstances I could not, for to behold her in distress with- 
out a capacity of relieving her from it, would add much to 
my splenetic habit. Your last letter was much too short; 
it should have answered some queries I had made in my 
former. Just sit down as I do, and write forward until you 

lo have filled all your paper. It requires no thought, at least 
from the ease with which my own sentiments rise when 
they are addressed to you. For, believe me, my head has 
no share in all I write ; my heart dictates the whole. Pray 
give my love to Bob Bryanton, and entreat him from me 

15 not to drink. My dear sir, give me some account about 
poor Jenny.^ Yet her husband loves her : if so, she cannot 
be unhappy. 

"I know not whether I should tell you — yet why should 
I conceal these trifles, or, indeed, anything from you? 

20 There is a book of mine will be published in a few days : 
the life of a very extraordinary man ; no less than the great 
Voltaire. You know already by the title that it is no more 
than a catchpenny. However, I spent but four weeks on 
the whole performance, for which I received twenty pounds. 

25 When published, I shall take some method of conveying it 
to you, unless you may think it dear of the postage, which 

. may amount to four or five shillings. However, I fear you 
will not find an equivalent of amusement. 

"Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short; you should 

30 have given me your opinion of the design of the heroi-comi- 
cal poem which I sent you. You remember I intended to in- 
troduce the hero of the poem as lying in a paltry ale-house. 

1 His sister, Mrs. Johnston ; her marriage, hke that of Mrs. Hodson, was 
private, but in pecuniary matters much less fortunate. 



LETTER TO HIS BROTHER HENRY lOI 

You may take the following specimen of the manner, which 
I flatter myself is quite original. The room in which he 
lies may be described somewhat in this way: — 

" ' The window, patched with paper, lent a ray 

That feebly show'd the state in which he lay ; 5 

The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread, 

The humid wall with paltry pictures spread; 

The game of goose was there exposed to view, 

And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew; 

The Seasons, framed with listing, found a place, 10 

And Prussia's monarch show'd his lamp-black face. 

The morn was cold : he views with keen desire 

A rusty grate unconscious of a fire ; 

An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scored. 

And five crack'd tea-cups dress'd the chimney-board.' 15 

"And now imagine, after his soliloquy, the landlord 
to make his appearance in order to dun him for the 
reckoning : — 

" * Not with that face, so servile and so gay, 

That welcomes every stranger that can pay : 20 

With sulky eye he smoked the patient man, 

Then pull'd his breeches tight, and thus began,' &c.i 

"All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good 
remark of Montaigne's, that the wisest men often have 
friends with whom they do not care how much they play 25 
the fool. Take my present follies as instances of my regard. 
Poetry is a much easier and more agreeable species of com- 
position than prose ; and, could a man live by it, it were 
not unpleasant employment to be a poet. I am resolved to 
leave no space, though I should fill it up only by telling 30 
you, what you very well know already, I mean that I am 
your most affectionate friend and brother, 

" Oliver Goldsmith." 

1 The projected poem, of which the above were specimens, appears never to 
have been completed. 



I02 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

The " Life of Voltaire," alluded to in the latter part of the 
preceding letter, was the literary job undertaken to satisfy 
the demands of Griffiths. It was to have preceded a trans- 
lation of the " Henriade," by Ned Purdon, Goldsmith's old 
5 schoolmate, now a Grub-Street writer, who starved rather 
than lived by the exercise of his pen, and often tasked 
Goldsmith's scanty means to relieve his hunger. His mis- 
erable career was summed up by our poet in the following 
lines written some years after the time we are treating of, 
10 on hearing that he had suddenly dropped dead in Smith- 
field : — 

" Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed, 
Who long was a bookseller's hack ; 
He led such a damnable life in this world, 
15 I don't think he '11 wish to come back." 

The memoir and translation, though advertised to form 
a volume, were not pubHshed together, but appeared sepa- 
rately in a magazine. 

As to the heroi-comical poem, also, cited in the forego- 

20 ing letter, it appears to have perished in embryo. Had it 
been brought to maturity, we should have had further traits 
of autobiography ;" the room already described was probably 
his own squalid quarters in Green Arbor Court ; and in a 
subsequent morsel of the poem we have the poet himself, 

25 under the euphonious name of Scroggin : — 

" Where the Red Lion peering o'er the way, 
Invites each passing stranger that can pay ; 
Where Calvert's butt and Parson's black champaigne 
Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury Lane : 
30 There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug. 

The muse found Scroggin stretch'd beneath a rug ; 
A nightcap deck'd his brows instead of bay, 
A cap by night, a stocking all the day 1 " 



MOCK-HEROIC POEM 103 

It is to be regretted that this poetical conception was not 
carried out; like the author's other writings, it might have 
abounded with pictures of life and touches of nature drawn 
from his own observation and experience, and mellowed by 
his own humane and tolerant spirit; and might have been 5 
a worthy companion or rather contrast to his " Traveller " 
and " Deserted Village/' and have remained in the language 
a first-rate specimen of the mock-heroic. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Comment on the aptness of Goldsmith's direction to his brother 
Henry about how to write a letter. What are the essentials of good 
letter writing to a friend? What are the fundamentals of good busi- 
ness letters ? 

2. Compare the amount of time Goldsmith spent on his " Life of Vol- 
taire " with the time Irving spent in preparing his " Life of Goldsmith." 

3. Goldsmith says that poetry is an easier species of composition 
than prose. Do you find this to be true } Put in verse form a picture 
of Goldsmith at this period. 

4. Irving suggests that Goldsmith was doomed to disappointment. 
Why should this be true.-* What do you conjecture will be some of 
his further disappointments in life ? 

5. Why was Goldsmith rejected by the College of Surgeons? 

6. Incidents in Goldsmith's life at his forlorn quarters in Green 
Arbor Court. Describe Green Arbor Court as seen by Irving. 

7. What is meant by the mock-heroic ? Write a mock-heroic 
account of the rejection of Goldsmith by the surgeons. [Introduce 
conversation.] 



CHAPTER XI 

Publication of "The Inquiry " — Attack by Griffiths' Review — Kenrick the 
Literary IshmaeUte — Periodical Literature — Goldsmith's Essays — Gar- 
rick as a Manager — Smollett and his Schemes— Change of Lodgings — 
The Robin Hood Club. 

Towards the end of March, 1759, the treatise on which 
Goldsmith had laid so much stress, on which he at one 
time had calculated to defray the expenses of his outfit to 
India, and to which he had adverted in his correspondence 
5 with Griffiths, made its appearance. It was published by 
the Dodsleys, and entitled " An Inquiry into the Present 
State of Polite Learning in Europe." 

In the present day, when the whole field of contemporary 
literature is so widely surveyed and amply discussed, and 

10 when the current productions of every country are con- 

- stantly collated and ably criticised, a treatise like that of 

Goldsmith would be considered as extremely limited and 

unsatisfactory ; but at that time it possessed novelty in its 

views and wideness in its scope, and being indued with the 

15 peculiar charm of style inseparable from the author, it com- 
manded public attention and a profitable sale. As it was 
the most important production that had yet come from 
Goldsmith's pen, he was anxious to have the credit of it; 
yet it appeared without his name on the title-page. The 

20 authorship, however, was well known throughout the world 
of letters, and the author had now grown into sufficient 
literary importance to become an object of hostility to the 
underlings of the press. One of the most virulent attacks 
upon him was in a criticism on this treatise, and appeared 

25 in the '' Monthly Review" to which he himself had been 

104 



ATTACK BY GRIFFITHS' REVIEW 105 

recently a contributor. It slandered him as a man while 
it decried him as an author, and accused him, by innuendo, 
of "laboring under the infamy of having, by the vilest and 
meanest actions, forfeited all pretensions to honor and hon- 
esty," and of practising " those acts which bring the sharper 5 
to the cart's tail or the pillory." 

It will be remembered that the Review was owned by 
Griffiths the bookseller, with whom Goldsmith had recently 
had a misunderstanding. The criticism, therefore, was no 
doubt dictated by the lingerings of resentment; and the 10 
imputations upon Goldsmith's character for honor and hon- 
esty, and the vile and mean actions hinted at, could only 
allude to the unfortunate pawning of the clothes. All this, 
too, was after Griffiths had received the affecting letter from 
Goldsmith, drawing a picture of his poverty and perplexities, 15 
and after the latter had made him a literary compensation. 
Griffiths, in fact, was sensible of the falsehood and extrava- 
gance of the attack, and tried to exonerate himself by declar- 
ing that the criticism was written by a person in his employ; 
but we see no difference in atrocity between him who wields 20 
the knife and him who hires the cut-throat. It may be well, 
however, in passing, to bestow our mite of notoriety upon 
the miscreant who launched the slander. He deserves it 
for a long course of dastardly and venomous attacks, not 
merely upon Goldsmith, but upon most of the successful 25 
authors of the day. His name was Kenrick. He was origi- 
nally a mechanic, but, possessing some degree of talent 
and industry, applied himself to literature as a profession. 
This he pursued for many years, and tried his hand in every 
department of prose and poetry ; he wrote plays and satires, 30 
philosophical tracts, critical dissertations, and works on phi- 
lology; nothing from his pen ever rose to first-rate excel- 
lence, or gained him a popular name, though he received from 
some university the degree of Doctor of Laws. Dr. Johnson 



I06 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

characterized his literary career in one short sentence. " Sir, 

he is one of the many who have made themselves public 

without making themselves known'' 

Soured by his own want of success, jealous of the suc- 
5 cess of others, his natural irritability of temper increased by 

habits of intemperance, he at length abandoned himself to 

the practice of reviewing, and became one of the Ishmaelites 
■ of the press. In this his malignant bitterness soon gave him 

a notoriety which his talents had never been able to attain, 
lo We shall dismiss him for the present with the following 

sketch of him by the hand of one of his contemporaries : — 

" Dreaming of genius which he never had, 
Half wit, half fool, half critic, and half mad ; 
Seizing, like Shirley, on the poet's lyre, 

1 5 With all his rage, but not one spark of fire ; 

Eager for slaughter, and resolved to tear 
From other's brows that wreath he must not wear — 
Next Kenrick came : all furious and replete 
With brandy, malice, pertness, and conceit ; 

20 Unskill'd in classic lore, through envy blind 

To all that 's beauteous, learned, or refined ; 
For faults alone behold the savage prowl, 
With reason's offal glut his ravening soul ; 
Pleased with his prey, its inmost blood he drinks, 

2^ And mumbles, paws, and turns it — till it stinks," 

The British press about this time was extravagantly fruit- 
ful of periodical publications. That "oldest inhabitant," 
the " Gentleman's Magazine," almost coeval with St. John's 
gate which graced its title-page, had long been elbowed by 

30 magazines and reviews of all kinds : Johnson's " Rambler " 
had introduced the fashion of periodical essays, which he 
had followed up in his "Adventurer" and "Idler." Imita- 
tions had sprung up on every side, under every variety of 
name; until British literature was entirely overrun by a 

35 weedy and transient efflorescence. Many of these rival 



GARRICK AS A MANAGER 107 

periodicals choked each other almost at the outset, and few 
of them have escaped oblivion. 

Goldsmith wrote for some of the most successful, such as 
the "Bee," the "Busy-Body," and the "Lady's Magazine." 
His essays, though characterized by his delightful style, 5 
his pure, benevolent morality, and his mellow, unobtrusive 
humor, did not produce equal effect at first with more gar- 
ish writings of infinitely less value ; they did not " strike," 
as it is termed ; but they had that rare and enduring merit 
which rises in estimation on every perusal. They gradually 10 
stole upon the heart of the public, were copied into numer- 
ous contemporary publications, and now they are garnered 
up among the choice productions of British literature. 

In his " Inquiry into the State of Polite Learning," Gold- 
smith had given offence to David Garrick, at that time auto- 15 
crat of the Drama, and was doomed to experience its effect. 
A clamor had been raised against Garrick for exercising a 
despotism over the stage, and bringing forward nothing but 
old plays to the exclusion of original productions. Walpole 
joined in this charge. "Garrick," said he, "is treating the 20 
town as it deserves and likes to be treated, — with scenes, 
fire-works, and his own W7'itings. A good new play I never 
expect to see more ; nor have seen since the ' Provoked 
Husband,' which came out when I was at school." Gold- 
smith, who was extremely fond of the theatre, and felt the 25 
evils of this system, inveighed in his treatise against the 
wrongs experienced by authors at the hands of managers. 
" Our poet's performance," said he, " must undergo a process 
truly chemical before it is presented to the public. It must 
be tried in the manager's fire ; strained through a licenser, 30 
suffer from repeated corrections, till it may be a mere caput 
mortuiim when it arrives before the public." Again, — 
" Getting a play on even in three or four years is a privilege 
reserved only for the happy few who have the arts of courting 



loS OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

the manager as well as the Muse ; who have adulation to 
please his vanity, powerful patrons to support their merit, 
or money to indemnify disappointment. Our Saxon ances- 
tors had but one name for a wit and a witch. I will not 

5 dispute the propriety of uniting those characters then ; but 
the man who under present discouragements ventures to write 
for the stage, whatever claim he may have to the appellation 
of a wit, at least has no right to be called a conjurer." But 
a passage which perhaps touched more sensibly than all the 

10 rest on the sensibilities of Garrick, was the following : — 

" I have no particular spleen against the fellow who 
sweeps the stage with the besom, or the hero who brushes 
it with his train. It were a matter of indifference to me, 
whether our heroines are in keeping, or our candle-snuffers 

15 burn their fingers, did not such make a great part of pubUc 
care and polite conversation. Our actors assume all that 
state off the stage which they do on it; and, to use an 
expression borrowed from the green-room, every one is up 
in his part. I am sorry to say it, they seem to forget their 

20 real characters." 

These strictures were considered by Garrick as intended 
for himself, and they were rankling in his mind when Gold- 
smith waited upon him and solicited his vote for the vacant 
secretaryship of the Society of Arts, of which the manager 

25 was a member. Garrick, puffed up by his dramatic renown 
and his intimacy with the great, and knowing Goldsmith 
only by his budding reputation, may not have considered 
him of sufficient importance to be conciliated. In reply to 
his solicitations, he observed that he could hardly expect 

30 his friendly exertions after the unprovoked attack he had 
made upon his management. Goldsmith replied that he 
had indulged in no personalities, and had only spoken what 
he believed to be the truth. He made no further apology nor 
application ; failed to get the appointment, and considered 



THE "CHINESE LETTERS" 109 

Garrick his enemy. In the second edition of his treatise 
he expunged or modified the passages which had given the 
manager offence ; but though the author and actor became 
intimate in after-years, this false step at the outset of their 
intercourse was never forgotten. 5 

About this time Goldsmith engaged with Dr. Smollett, 
who was about to launch the " British Magazine." Smollett 
was a complete schemer and speculator in literature, and 
intent upon enterprises that had money rather than reputa- 
tion in view. Goldsmith has a good-humored hit at this 10 
propensity in one of his papers in the "Bee," in which he 
represents Johnson, Hume, and others taking seats in the 
stage-coach bound for Fame, while Smollett prefers that 
destined for Riches. 

Another prominent employer of Goldsmith was Mr. John 15 
Newbery, who engaged him to contribute occasional essays 
to a newspaper entitled the " Public Ledger," which made 
its first appearance on the 12th of January, 1760. His 
most valuable and characteristic contributions to this paper 
were his " Chinese Letters," subsequently modified into the 20 
" Citizen of the World." These lucubrations attracted gen- 
eral attention ; they were reprinted in the various periodical 
publications of the day, and met with great applause. The 
name of the author, however, was as yet but little known. 

Being now easier in circumstances, and in the receipt of 25 
frequent sums from the booksellers, Goldsmith, about the 
middle of 1760, emerged from his dismal abode in Green 
Arbor Court, and took respectable apartments in Wine- 
Office Court, Fleet Street. 

Still he continued to look back with considerate benevo- 30 
lence to the poor hostess, whose necessities he had relieved 
by pawning his gala coat, for we are told that " he often 
supplied her with food from his own table, and visited her 
frequently with the sole purpose to be kind to her." 



no OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

He now became a member of a debating club, called the 
Robin Hood, which used to meet near Temple Bar, and in 
which Burke, while yet a Temple student, had first tried his 
powers. Goldsmith spoke here occasionally, and is recorded 

5 in the Robin Hood archives as " a candid disputant, with a 
clear head and an honest heart, though coming but seldom 
to the society." His relish was for clubs of a more social, 
jovial nature, and he was never fond of argument. An 
amusing anecdote is told of his first introduction to the club, 

o by Samuel Derrick, an Irish acquaintance of some humor. 
On entering. Goldsmith was struck with the self-important 
appearance of the chairman ensconced in a large gilt chair. 
" This," said he, " must be the Lord Chancellor at least." 
" No, no," replied Derrick, " he 's only master of the rolls.^^ 

5 — The chairman was a baker. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. What are some of the elements that make Goldsmith's " peculiar 
charm of style " ? Does Irving show any charm of style in this 
biography ? 

2. What made it possible for Goldsmith to move to Fleet Street? 

3. Is the pun at the end of the chapter a good one ? [Compare 
third question, Chapter XLIV.] 

4. By what means was Goldsmith introduced to the Robin Hood 
debating club ? 

5. What should be the aim of a debating club ? What can be 
accomplished by such an organization ? Draw up constitution and by- 
laws for what you would consider an ideal debating club. 



CHAPTER XII 

New Lodgings — Visits of Ceremony — Hangers-on — Pilkington and the White 
Mouse — Introduction to Dr. Johnson — Davies and his Bookshop — Pretty 
Mrs. Davies — Foote and his Projects — Criticism of the Cudgel. 

In his new lodgings in Wine-Office Court, Goldsmith 
began to receive visits of ceremony, and to entertain his 
literary friends. Among the latter he now numbered sev- 
eral names of note, such as Guthrie, Murphy, Christopher 
Smart, and Bickerstaff. He had also a numerous class of 5 
hangers-on, the small fry of literature; who, knowing his 
almost utter incapacity to refuse a pecuniary request, were 
apt, now that he was considered flush, to levy continual 
taxes upon his purse. 

Among others, one Pilkington, an old college acquaint- 10 
ance, but now a shifting adventurer, duped him in the most 
ludicrous manner. He called on him with a face full of 
perplexity. A lady of the first rank having an extraordinary 
fancy for curious animals, for which she was willing to give 
enormous sums, he had procured a couple of white mice to 15 
be forwarded to her from India. They were actually on 
board of a ship in the river. Her grace had been apprised 
of their arrival, and was all impatience to see them. Unfor- 
tunately, he had no cage to put them in, nor clothes to 
appear in before a lady of her rank. Two guineas would 20 
be sufficient for his purpose, but where were two guineas to 
be procured ! 

The simple heart of Goldsmith was touched ; but, alas ! 
he had but half a guinea in his pocket. It was unfortu- 
nate, but, after a pause, his friend suggested, with some 25 
hesitation, " that money might be raised upon his watch : it 



I 12 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

would but be the loan of a few hours." So said, so done ; 
the watch was delivered to the worthy Mr. Pilkington to be 
pledged at a neighboring pawnbroker's, but nothing farther 
was ever seen of him, the watch, or the white mice. The 
5 next that Goldsmith heard of the poor shifting scapegrace, 
he was on his death-bed, starving with want, upon which, 
forgetting or forgiving the trick he had played upon him, he 
sent him a guinea. Indeed he used often to relate with 
great humor the foregoing anecdote of his credulity, and 

lo was ultimately in some degree indemnified by its suggest- 
ing to him the amusing little story of Prince Bonbennin and 
the White Mouse in the " Citizen of the World." 

In this year Goldsmith became personally acquainted with 
Dr. Johnson, toward whom he was drawn by strong sympa- 

15 thies, though their natures were widely different. Both had 
struggled from early life with poverty, but had struggled 
in different ways. Goldsmith, buoyant, heedless, sanguine, 
tolerant of evils, and easily pleased, had shifted along by 
any temporary expedient ; cast down at every turn, but rising 

20 again with indomitable good-humor, and still carried forward 
by his talent at hoping. Johnson, melancholy, and hypo- 
chondriacal, and prone to apprehend the worst, yet sternly 
resolute to battle with and conquer it, had made his way 
doggedly and gloomily, but with a noble principle of self- 

25 reliance and a disregard of foreign aid. Both had been 
irregular at college : Goldsmith, as we have shown, from 
the levity of his nature and his social and convivial habits ; 
Johnson, from his acerbity and gloom. When, in after-life, 
the latter heard himself spoken of as gay and frolicsome at 

30 college, because he had joined in some riotous excesses 
there, " Ah, sir ! " replied he, ^' I was mad and violent. It 
was bitterness which they mistook for frolic. / was jniser- 
ably poor, and I thought to fight 7ny way by 7ny literature and 
my wit. So I disregarded all power and all authority." 



DR. JOHNSON 113 

Goldsmith's poverty was never accompanied by bitterness ; 
but neither was it accompanied by the guardian pride which 
kept Johnson from falling into the degrading shifts of pov- 
erty. Goldsmith had an unfortunate facility at borrowing, 
and helping himself along by the contributions of his friends ; 5 
no doubt trusting in his hopeful way, of one day making 
retribution. Johnson never hoped, and therefore never bor- 
rowed. In his sternest trials he proudly bore the ills he 
could not master. In his youth, when some unknown friend, 
seeing his shoes completely worn out, left a new pair at his 10 
chamber-door, he disdained to accept the boon, and threw 
them away. 

Though like Goldsmith an immethodical student, he had 
imbibed deeper draughts of knowledge, and made himself a 
riper scholar. While Goldsmith's happy constitution and 15 
genial humors carried him abroad into sunshine and enjoy- 
ment, Johnson's physical infirmities and mental gloom drove 
him upon himself ; to the resources of reading and medita- 
tion ; threw a deeper though darker enthusiasm into his mind, 
and stored a retentive memory with all kinds of knowledge. 20 

After several years of youth passed in the country as usher, 
teacher, and an occasional writer for the press, Johnson, when 
twenty-eight years of age, came up to London with a half- 
written tragedy in his pocket ; and David Garrick, late his 
pupil, and several years his junior, as a companion, both 25 
poor and penniless, — both, like Goldsmith, seeking their 
fortune in the metropolis. '' We rode and tied," said Garrick 
sportively in after-years of prosperity, when he spoke of their 
humble wayfaring. " I came to London," said Johnson, " with 
twopence halfpenny in my pocket." — " Eh, what 's that you 30 
say ? " cried Garrick, " with twopence halfpenny in your 
pocket ? " " Why, yes : I came with twopence halfpenny 
in my pocket, and thou, Davy, with but three halfpence in 
thine." Nor was there much exaggeration in the picture ; 



114 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

for so poor were they in purse and credit, that after their 
arrival they had, with difficulty, raised five pounds, by giving 
their joint note to a bookseller in the Strand. 

Many, many years had Johnson gone on obscurely in 
5 London, "fighting his way by his literature and his wit"; 
enduring all the hardships and miseries of a Grub-Street 
writer : so destitute at one time, that he and Savage the 
poet had walked all night about St. James's Square, both too 
poor to pay for a night's lodging, yet both full of poetry and 

lo patriotism, and determined to stand by their country; so 
shabby in dress at another time, that, when he dined at 
Cave's, his bookseller, when there was prosperous company, 
he could not make his appearance at table, but had his 
dinner handed to him behind a screen. 

IS Yet through all the long and dreary struggle, often diseased 
in mind as well as in body, he had been resolutely self- 
dependent, and proudly self-respectful ; he had fulfilled his 
college vow, he had " fought his way by his literature and 
wit." His "Rambler" and "Idler" had made him the 

20 great moralist of the age, and his " Dictionary and History 
of the English Language," that stupendous monument of 
individual labor, had excited the admiration of the learned 
world. He was now at the head of intellectual society ; and 
had become as distinguished by his conversational as his 

25 literary powers. He had become as much an autocrat in 
his sphere as his fellow-wayfarer and adventurer Garrick 
had become of the stage, and had been humorously dubbed 
by Smollett, " The Great Cham of Literature." 

Such was Dr. Johnson, when on the 31st of May, 1761, 

30 he was to make his appearance as a guest at a literary supper 
given by Goldsmith to a numerous party at his new lodgings 
in Wine-Office Court. It was the opening of their acquaint- 
ance. Johnson had felt and acknowledged the merit of Gold- 
smith as an author, and been pleased by the honorable 



DR. JOHNSON 115 

mention made of himself in the "Bee" and the "Chinese 
Letters." Dr. Percy called upon Johnson to take him to Gold- 
smith's lodgings ; he found Johnson arrayed with unusual 
care in a new suit of clothes, a new hat, and a well-powdered 
wig; and could not but notice his uncommon spruceness. 5 
"Why, sir," replied Johnson, "I hear that Goldsmith, who 
is a very great sloven, justifies his disregard of cleanliness 
and decency by quoting my practice, and I am desirous this 
night to show him a better example." 

The acquaintance thus commenced ripened into intimacy 10 
in the course of frequent meetings at the shop of Davies, 
the bookseller, in Russell Street, Covent Garden. As this 
was one of the great literary gossiping-places of the day, 
especially to the circle over which Johnson presided, it is 
worthy of some specification. Mr. Thomas Davies, noted 15 
in after-times as the biographer of Garrick, had originally 
been on the stage, and though a small man, had enacted 
tyrannical tragedy with a pomp and magniloquence beyond 
his size, if we may trust the description given of him by 
Churchill in the " Rosciad " : — 20 

" Statesman all over — in plots famous grown, 
He months a sentence as curs mouth a bone" 

This unlucky sentence is said to have crippled him in the 
midst of his tragic career, and ultimately to have driven him 
from the stage. He carried into the bookselling craft some- 25 
what of the grandiose manner of the stage, and was prone 
to be mouthy and magniloquent. 

Churchill had intimated, that while on the stage he was 
more noted for his pretty wife than his good acting: — 

" With him came mighty Davies ; on my life, 30 

That fellow has a very pretty wife." 

" Pretty Mrs. Davies " continued to be the loadstar of his 
fortunes. Her tea-table became almost as much a literary 



Il6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

lounge as her husband's shop. She found favor in the eyes 
of the Ursa Major of literature by her winning ways, as she 
poured out for him cups without stint of his favorite beverage. 
Indeed it is suggested that she was one leading cause of his 
5 habitual resort to this literary haunt. Others were drawn 
thither for the sake of Johnson's conversation, and thus it 
became a resort of many of the notorieties of the day. Here 
might occasionally be seen Bennet Langton, George Steevens, 
Dr. Percy, celebrated for his ancient ballads, and sometimes 

lo Warburton in prelatic state. Garrick resorted to it for a time, 
but soon grew shy and suspicious, declaring that most of the 
authors who frequented Mr. Davies's shop went merely to 
abuse him. 

Foote, the Aristophanes of the day, was a frequent visitor; 

15 his broad face beaming with fun and waggery, and' his satir- 
ical eye ever on the lookout for characters and incidents for 
his farces. He was struck with the odd habits and appear- 
ance of Johnson and Goldsmith, now so often brought together 
in Davies's shop. He was about to put on the stage a farce 

20 called "The Orators," intended as a hit at the Robin Hood 
debating-club, and resolved to show up the two doctors in it 
for the entertainment of the town. 

" What is the common price of an oak stick, sir ? " said 
Johnson to Davies. "Sixpence," was the reply. "Why 

25 then, sir, give me leave to send your servant to purchase a 
shilling one. I '11 have a double quantity, for I am told 
Foote means to take me off as he calls it, and I am deter- 
mined the fellow shall not do it with impunity." 

Foote had no disposition to undergo the criticism of the 

30 cudgel wielded by such potent hands, so the farce of " The 
Orators" appeared without the caricatures of the lexicog- 
rapher and the essayist. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS I17 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Comparison of the struggles of Goldsmith and Johnson for literary 
recognition. 

2. Who were some of Goldsmith's intimates in these years ? How 
many of them might reasonably be called famous ? Does the company 
Goldsmith kept indicate the kind of man he was ? 

3. A study of the allusions to Goldsmith in Boswell's " Life of 
Johnson." [Consult index of the Boswell.] 



CHAPTER XIII 

Oriental Projects — Literary Jobs — The Cherokee Chiefs — Merry Islington 
and the White Conduit House — Letters on the History of England — 
James Boswell — Dinner of Davies — Anecdotes of Johnson and Goldsmith. 

Notwithstanding his growing succe'ss, Goldsmith continued 
to consider Uterature a mere makeshift, and his vagrant imagi- 
nation teemed with schemes and plans of a grand but indefinite 
nature. One was for visiting the East and exploring the inte- 

5 rior of Asia. He had, as has been before observed, a vague 
notion that valuable discoveries were to be made there, and 
many useful inventions in the arts brought back to the stock of 
European knowledge. " Thus, in Siberian Tartary," observes 
he, in one of his writings, " the natives extract a strong spirit 

10 from milk, which is a secret probably unknown to the chem- 
ists of Europe. In the most savage parts of India they are 
possessed of the secret of dyeing vegetable substances scar- 
let, and that of refining lead into a metal which, for hardness 
and color, is little inferior to silver." 

15 Goldsmith adds a description of the kind of person suited 
to such an enterprise, in which he evidently had himself 
in view. 

" He should be a man of philosophical turn, one apt to 
deduce consequences of general utility from particular occur- 

20 rences ; neither swoln with pride, nor hardened by prejudice ; 
neither wedded to one particular system, nor instructed only 
in one particular science ; neither wholly a botanist, nor 
quite an antiquarian ; his mind should be tinctured with mis- 
cellaneous knowledge, and his manners humanized by an 

25 intercourse with men. He should be in some measure an 
enthusiast to the design ; fond of travelling, from a rapid 

118 



LITERARY JOBS II9 

imagination and an innate love of change ; furnished with 
a body capable of sustaining every fatigue, and a heart not 
easily terrified at danger." 

In 1 76 1, when Lord Bute became prime minister on the 
accession of George the Third, Goldsmith drew up a memo- 5 
rial on the subject, suggesting the advantages to be derived 
from a mission to those countries solely for useful and sci- 
entific purposes; and, the better to insure success, he pre- 
ceded his application to the government by an ingenious 
essay to the same effect in the " PubUc Ledger." 10 

His memorial and his essay were fruitless, his project most 
probably being deemed the dream of a visionary. Still it 
continued to haunt his mind, and he would often talk of 
making an expedition to Aleppo some time or other, when 
his means were greater, to inquire into the arts peculiar 15 
to the East, and to bring home such as might be valuable. 
Johnson, who knew how little poor Goldsmith was fitted by 
scientific lore for this favorite scheme of his fancy, scoffed 
at the project when it was mentioned to him. "Of all 
men," said he, " Goldsmith is the most unfit to go out upon 20 
such an inquiry, for he is utterly ignorant of such arts as 
we already possess, and, consequently, could not know what 
would be accessions to our present stock of mechanical 
knowledge. Sir, he would bring home a grinding-barrow, 
which you see in every street in London, and think that 25 
he had furnished a wonderful improvement." 

His connection with Newbery the bookseller now led him 
into a variety of temporary jobs, such as a pamphlet on the 
Cock-Lane Ghost, a Life of Beau Nash, the famous Master 
of Ceremonies at Bath, &c. : one of the best things for his 30 
fame, however, was the remodelling and republication of his 
Chinese Letters under the title of "The Citizen of the World," 
a work which has long since taken its merited stand among 
the classics of the English language. " Few works," it has 



I20 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

been observed by one of his biographers, ''exhibit a nicer 
perception, or more delicate deUneation of life and manners. 
Wit, humor, and sentiment pervade every page ; the vices 
and follies of the day are touched with the most playful 
5 and diverting satire ; and EngHsh characteristics, in endless 
variety, are hit off with the pencil of a master." 

In seeking materials for his varied views of life, he often 
mingled in strange scenes and got involved in whimsical situ- 
ations. In the summer of 1762 he was one of the thousands 

10 who went to see the Cherokee chiefs, whom he mentions in 
one of his writings. The Indians made their appearance 
in grand costume, hideously painted and besmeared. In the 
course of the visit Goldsmith made one of the chiefs a pres- 
ent, who, in the ecstasy of his gratitude, gave him an embrace 

15 that left his face well bedaubed with oil and red ochre. 

Towards the close of 1762 he removed to "merry Isling- 
ton," then a country village, though now swallowed up in 
omnivorous London. He went there for the benefit of 
country air, his health being injured by literary applica- 

20 tion and confinement, and to be near his chief employer, 
Mr. Newbery, who resided in the Canonbury House. In this 
neighborhood he used to take his solitary rambles, some- 
times extending his walks to the gardens of the "White 
Conduit House," so famous among the essayists of the last 

25 century. While strolling one day in these gardens, he met 
three females of the family of a respectable tradesman to 
whom he was under some obligation. With his prompt dis- 
position to oblige, he conducted them about the garden, 
treated them to tea, and ran up a bill in the most open- 

30 handed manner imaginable ; it was only when he came to 
pay that he found himself in one of his old dilemmas — he 
had not the wherewithal in his pocket. A scene of per- 
plexity now took place between him and the waiter, in the 
midst of which came up some of his acquaintances, in whose 



HIS "HISTORY OF ENGLAND" I2I 

eyes he wished to stand particularly well. This completed 
his mortification. There was no concealing the awkward- 
ness of his position. The sneers of the waiter revealed it. 
His acquaintances amused themselves for some time at his 
expense, professing their inability to relieve him. When, 5 
however, they had enjoyed their banter, the waiter was paid, 
and poor Goldsmith enabled to convoy off the ladies with 
flying colors. 

Among the various productions thrown off by him for 
the booksellers during this growing period of his reputation, 10 
was a small work in two volumes, entitled " The History of 
England, in a Series of Letters from a Nobleman to his Son." 
It was digested from Hume, Rapin, Carte, and Kennet. 
These authors he would read in the morning ; make a few 
notes; ramble with a friend into the country about the 15 
skirts of "merry Islington"; return to a temperate dinner 
and cheerful evening; and, before going to bed, write off 
what had arranged itself in his head from the studies of the 
morning. In this way he took a more general view of the 
subject, and wrote in a more free and fluent style than if 20 
he had been mousing at the time among authorities. The 
work, like many others written by him in the earlier part of 
his literary career, was anonymous. Some attributed it to 
Lord Chesterfield, others to Lord Orrery, and others to 
Lord Lyttelton. The latter seemed pleased to be the puta- 25 
tive father, and never disowned the bantling thus laid at 
his door ; and well might he have been proud to be con- 
sidered capable of producing what has been well-pronounced 
" the most finished and elegant summary of English history 
in the same compass that has been or is likely to be 30 
written." 

The reputation of Goldsmith, it wfll be perceived, grew 
slowly; he was known and estimated by a few; but he had 
not those brilliant though fallacious qualities which flash 



122 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

upon the public, and excite loud but transient applause. 
His works were more read than cited; and the charm of 
style, for which he was especially noted, was more apt to 
be felt than talked about. He used often to repine, in a 

5 half humorous, half querulous manner, at his tardiness in 
gaining the laurels which he felt to be his due. ''The 
public," he would exclaim, "will never do me justice; when- 
ever I write anything, they make a point to know nothing 
about it." 

10 About the beginning of 1763 he became acquainted with 
Boswell, whose literary gossipings were destined to have a 
deleterious effect upon his reputation. Boswell was at that 
time a young man, light, buoyant, pushing, and presump- 
tuous. He had a morbid passion for mingling in the society 

15 of men noted for wit and learning, and had just arrived 
from Scotland, bent upon making his way into the literary 
circles of the metropolis. An intimacy with Dr. Johnson, 
the great literary luminary of the day, was the crowning 
object of his aspiring and somewhat ludicrous ambition. 

20 He expected to meet him at a dinner to which he was 
invited at Davies the bookseller's but was disappointed. 
Goldsmith was present, but he was not as yet sufficiently 
renowned to excite the reverence of Boswell. "At this 
time," says he in his notes, " I think he had published 

25 nothing with his name, though it was pretty generally under- 
stood that one Dr. Goldsmith was the author of 'An Inquiry 
into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe,' and of 
'The Citizen of the World,' a series of letters supposed to 
be written from London, by a Chinese." 

30 A conversation took place at table between Goldsmith 
and Mr. Robert Dodsley, compiler of the well-known col- 
lection of modern poetry, as to the merits of the current 
poetry of the day. Goldsmith declared there was none of 
superior merit. Dodsley cited his own collection in proof 



JAMES BOSWELL 123 

of the contrary. " It is true," said he, " we can boast of no 
palaces nowadays, like Dryden's ' Ode to St. Cecilia's Day,' 
but we have villages composed of very pretty houses." 
Goldsmith, however, maintained that there was nothing 
above mediocrity, an opinion in which Johnson, to whom it 5 
was repeated, concurred, and with reason, for the era was 
one of the dead levels of British poetry. 

Boswell has made no note of this conversation; he was 
an unitarian in his literary devotion, and disposed to worship 
none but Johnson. Little Davies endeavored to console him 10 
for his disappointment, and to stay the stomach of his curi- 
osity, by giving him imitations of the great lexicographer; 
mouthing his words, rolling his head, and assuming as pon- 
derous a manner as his petty person would permit. Bos- 
well was shortly afterwards made happy by an introduction 15 
to Johnson, of whom he became the obsequious satelUte. 
From him he likewise imbibed a more favorable opinion of 
Goldsmith's merits, though he was fain to consider them 
derived in a great measure from his Magnus Apollo. " He 
had sagacity enough," says he, " to cultivate assiduously the 20 
acquaintance of Johnson, and his faculties were gradually 
enlarged by the contemplation of such a model. To me 
and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the 
manner of Johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale." 
So on another occasion he calls him "one of the brightest 25 
ornaments of the Johnsonian school." " His respectful 
attachment to Johnson," adds he, "was then at its height; 
for his own literary reputation had not yet distinguished 
him so much as to excite a vain desire of competition with 
his great master." 30 

What beautiful instances does the garrulous Boswell give 
of the goodness of heart of Johnson, and the passing homage 
to it by Goldsmith. They were speaking of a Mr. Levett, 
long an inmate of Johnson's house and a dependent on his 



124 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

bounty; but who, Boswell thought, must be an irksome 
charge upon him. " He is poor and honest," said Gold- 
smith, "which is recommendation enough to Johnson." 
Boswell mentioned another person of a very bad character, 

5 and wondered at Johnson's kindness to him. " He is now 
become miserable," said Goldsmith, " and that insures the 
protection of Johnson." Encomiums like these speak almost 
as much for the heart of him who praises as of him who 
is praised. 

10 Subsequently, when Boswell had become more intense in 
his literary idolatry, he affected to undervalue Goldsmith, 
and a lurking hostility to him is discernible throughout 
his writings, which some have attributed to a silly spirit 
of jealousy of the superior esteem evinced for the poet by 

15 Dr. Johnson. We have a gleam of this in his account of 
the first evening he spent in company with those two emi- 
nent authors at their famous resort, the Mitre Tavern, in 
Fleet Street. This took place on the istof July, 1763. The 
trio supped together, and passed some time in literary con- 

20 versation. On quitting the tavern, Johnson, who had now 
been sociably acquainted with Goldsmith for two years, 
and knew his merits, took him with him to drink tea with 
his blind pensioner. Miss Williams, — a high privilege among 
his intimates and admirers. To Boswell, a recent acquaint- 

25 ance, whose intrusive sycophancy had not yet made its way 
into his confidential intimacy, he gave no invitation. Bos- 
well felt it with all the jealousy of a little mind. " Dr. 
Goldsmith," says he, in his memoirs, "being a privileged 
man went with him, strutting away, and calling to me with 

30 an air of superiority, like that of an esoteric over an exo- 
teric disciple of a sage of antiquity, ' I go to Miss Williams.' 
I confess I then envied him this mighty privilege, of which 
he seemed to be so proud ; but it was not long before I 
obtained the same mark of distinction." 



JEALOUSY OF BOSWELL 125 

Obtained ! but how ? not like Goldsmith, by the force 
of unpretending but congenial merit, but by a course of 
the most pushing, contriving, and spaniel-like subserviency. 
Really, the ambition of the man to illustrate his mental 
insignificance, by continually placing himself in juxtaposi- 5 
tion with the great lexicographer, has something in it per- 
fectly ludicrous. Never, since the days of Don Quixote and 
Sancho Panza, has there been presented to the world a more 
whimsically contrasted pair of associates than Johnson and 
Boswell. 10 

"Who is this Scotch cur at Johnson's heels?" asked 
some one when Boswell had worked his way into inces- 
sant companionship. " He is not a cur," replied Goldsmith, 
" you are too severe ; he is only a bur. Tom Davies flung 
him at Johnson in sport, and he has the faculty of sticking." 15 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Show how Goldsmith's method of writing his "History of Eng- 
land " should offer hints to you in the preparation of school compo- 
sitions. 

2. What well-known short poem of Goldsmith's contains a refer- 
ence to Islington ? [See Chapter XVII of " The Vicar of Wakefield."] 

3. Who was Boswell? Why should not he and Goldsmith find 
each other's company agreeable ? 

4. Why might Johnson be called the Magnus Apollo of Boswell ? 
By what other terms is Johnson referred to in Irving's " Life of 
Goldsmith " ? 



CHAPTER XIV 

Hogarth a Visitor at Islington; His Character — Street Studies — Sympathies 
between Authors and Painters — Sir Joshua Reynolds; His Character; 
His Dinners — The Literary Club; Its Members — Johnson's Revels with 
Lankey and Beau — Goldsmith at the Club. 

Among the intimates who used to visit the poet occasion- 
ally in his retreat at Islington, was Hogarth the painter. 
Goldsmith had spoken well of him in his essays in the "Pub- 
lic Ledger," and this formed the first link in their friend- 
5 ship. He was at this time upwards of sixty years of age, 
and is described as a stout, active, bustling little man, in a 
sky-blue coat, satirical and dogmatic, yet full of real benev- 
olence and the love of human nature. He was the moral- 
ist and philosopher of the pencil ; like Goldsmith he had 

lo sounded the depths of vice and misery, without being pol- 
luted by them ; and though his picturings had not the per- 
vading amenity of those of the essayist, and dwelt more on 
the crimes and vices than the follies and humors of man- 
kind, yet they were all calculated, in like manner, to fill the 

15 mind with instruction and precept, and to make the heart 
better. 

Hogarth does not appear to have had much of the rural 
feeling with which Goldsmith was so amply endowed, and 
may not have accompanied him in his strolls about hedges 

20 and green lanes; but he was a fit companion with whom to 
explore the mazes of London, in which he was continually 
on the lookout for character and incident. One of Hogarth's 
admirers speaks of having come upon him in Castle Street, 
engaged in one of his street-studies, watching two boys who 

25 were quarrelling; patting one on the back who flinched, 

126 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS 12/ 

and endeavoring to spirit him up to a fresh encounter. 
" At him again ! D — him, if I would take it of him ! At 
him again ! " 

A frail memorial of this intimacy between the painter 
and the poet exists in a portrait in oil, called " Goldsmith's 5 
Hostess." It is supposed to have been painted by Hogarth 
in the course of his visits to Islington, and given by him to 
the poet as a means of paying his landlady. There are no 
friendships among men of talents more likely to be sincere 
than those between painters and poets. Possessed of the 10 
same qualities of mind, governed by the same principles of 
taste and natural laws of grace and beauty, but applying 
them to difEerent yet mutually illustrative arts, they are con- 
stantly in sympathy, and never in collision with each other. 

A still more congenial intimacy of the kind was that con- 15 
tracted by Goldsmith with Mr. (afterwards Sir Joshua) Rey- 
nolds. The latter was now about forty years of age, a few 
years older than the poet, whom he charmed by the bland- 
ness and benignity of his manners, and the nobleness and 
generosity of his disposition, as much as he did by the 20 
graces of his pencil and the magic of his coloring. They 
were men of kindred genius, excelling in corresponding 
qualities of their several arts, for style in writing is what 
color is in painting; both are innate endowments, and 
equally magical in their effects. Certain graces and har- 25 
monies of both may be acquired by diligent study and imita- 
tion, but only in a limited degree ; whereas by their natural 
possessors they are exercised spontaneously, almost uncon- 
sciously, and with ever-varying fascination. Reynolds soon 
understood and appreciated the merits of Goldsmith, and a 30 
sincere and lasting friendship ensued between them. 

At Reynolds's house Goldsmith mingled in a higher range 
of company than he had been accustomed to. The fame 
of this celebrated artist, and his amenity of manners, were 



128 OLIVER GOLDSxMITH 

gathering round him men of talents of all kinds, and the 
increasing affluence of his circumstances enabled him to 
give full indulgence to his hospitable disposition. Poor 
Goldsmith had not yet, like Dr. Johnson, acquired reputa- 
5 tion enough to atone for his external defects and his want 
of the air of good society. Miss Reynolds used to inveigh 
against his personal appearance, which gave her the idea, 
she said, of a low mechanic, a journeyman tailor. One 
evening at a large supper-party, being called upon to give 

lo as a toast the ugliest man she knew, she gave Dr. Gold- 
smith, upon which a lady who sat opposite, and whom she 
had never met before, shook hands with her across the 
table, and "hoped to become better acquainted." 

We have a graphic and amusing picture of Reynolds's hos- 

15 pitable but motley establishment, in an account given by a 
Mr. Courtenay to Sir James Mackintosh ; though it speaks 
of a time after Reynolds had received the honor of knight- 
hood. " There was something singular," said he, " in the 
style and economy of Sir Joshua's table that contributed to 

20 pleasantry and good-humor, — a coarse, inelegant plenty, 
without any regard to order and arrangement. At five 
o'clock precisely, dinner was served, whether all the invited 
guests had arrived or not. Sir Joshua was never so fash- 
ionably ill-bred as to wait an hour perhaps for two or three 

25 persons of rank or title, and put the rest of the company 
out of humor by this invidious distinction. His invitations, 
however, did not regulate the number of his guests. Many 
dropped in uninvited. A table prepared for seven or eight 
was often compelled to contain fifteen or sixteen. There 

30 was a consequent deficiency of knives, forks, plates, and 
glasses. The attendance was in the same style, and those 
who were knowing in the ways of the house took care on 
sitting down to call instantly for beer, bread, or wine, that 
they might secure a supply before the first course was over. 



THE LITERARY CLUB 129 

He was once prevailed on to furnish the table with decant- 
ers and glasses .at dinner, to save time and prevent confu- 
sion. These gradually were demolished in the course of 
service, and were never replaced. These trifling embarrass- 
ments, however, only served to enhance the hilarity and 5 
singular pleasure of the entertainment. The wine, cookery, 
and dishes were but little attended to ; nor was the fish or 
venison ever talked of or recommended. Amidst this con- 
vivial animated bustle among his guests, our host sat per- 
fectly composed ; always attentive to what was said, never 10 
minding what was ate or drank, but left every one at per- 
fect liberty to scramble for himself." 

Out of the casual but frequent meeting of men of talent 
at this hospitable board rose that association of wits, authors, 
scholars, and statesmen, renowned as the Literary Club. 15 
Reynolds was the first to propose a regular association of 
the kind, and was eagerly seconded by Johnson, who pro- 
posed as a model a club which he had formed many years 
previously in Ivy Lane, but which was now extinct. Like 
that club the number of members was limited to nine. 20 
They were to meet and sup together once a week, on Mon- 
day night, at the Turk's Head on Gerard Street, Soho, and 
two members were to constitute a meeting. It took a regu- 
lar form in the year 1764, but did not receive its literary 
appellation until several years afterwards. 25 

The original members were Reynolds, Johnson, Burke, 
Dr. Nugent, Bennet Langton, Topham Beauclerc, Chamier, 
Hawkins, and Goldsmith ; and here a few words concerning 
some of the members may be acceptable. Burke was at 
that time about thirty-three years of age ; he had mingled a 30 
little in poHtics and been Under-Secretary to Hamilton at 
Dublin, but was again a writer for the booksellers, and as 
yet but in the dawning of his fame. Dr. Nugent was his 
father-in-law, a Roman Catholic, and a physician of talent 



I30 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

and instruction. Mr. (afterwards Sir John) Hawkins was 
admitted into this association from having been a member 
of Johnson's Ivy-Lane club. Originally an attorney, he had 
retired from the practice of the law, in consequence of a 
5 large fortune which fell to him in right of his wife, and was 
now a Middlesex magistrate. He was, moreover, a dabbler 
in literature and music, and was actually engaged on a 
history of music, which he subsequently published in five 
ponderous volumes. To him we are also indebted for a 

10 biography of Johnson, which appeared after the death of 
that eminent man. Hawkins was as mean and parsimoni- 
ous as he was pompous and conceited. He forbore to par- 
take of the suppers at the club, and begged therefore to be 
excused from paying his share of the reckoning. " And 

15 was he excused?" asked Dr. Burney of Johnson. " Oh, yes, 
for no man is angry at another for being inferior to himself. 
We all scorned him and admitted his plea. Yet I really 
believe him to be an honest man at bottom, though to be 
sure he is penurious, and he is mean, and it must be owned 

20 he has a tendency to savageness." He did not remain 
above two or three years in the club ; being in a manner 
elbowed out in consequence of his rudeness to Burke. 

Mr. Anthony Chamier was Secretary in the war-office, 
and a friend of Beauclerc, by whom he was proposed. We 

25 have left our mention of Bennet Langton and Topham 
Beauclerc until the last, because we have most to say about 
them. They were doubtless induced to join the club through 
their devotion to Johnson, and the intimacy of these two 
very young and aristocratic young men with the stern and 

30 somewhat melancholy moralist is among the curiosities of 
literature. 

Bennet Langton was of an ancient family, who held their 
ancestral estate of Langton in Lincolnshire, — a great title 
to respect with Johnson. " Langton, sir," he would say, 



LANGTON AND JOHNSON 131 

" has a grant of free-warren from Henry the Second ; and 
Cardinal Stephen Langton, in King John's reign, was of 
this family." 

Langton was of a mild, contemplative, enthusiastic nature. 
When but eighteen years of age he was so delighted with 5 
reading Johnson's " Rambler," that he came to London 
chiefly with a view to obtain an introduction to the author. 
Boswell gives us an account of his first interview, which 
took place in the morning. It is not often that the per- 
sonal appearance of an author agrees with the preconceived 10 
ideas of his admirer. Langton, from perusing the writings 
of Johnson, expected to find him a decent, well-dressed, in 
short a remarkably decorous philosopher. Instead of which, 
down from his bedchamber about noon, came, as newly 
risen, a large uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which 15 
scarcely covered his head, and his clothes hanging loose 
about him. But his conversation was so rich, so animated, 
and so forcible, and his religious and political notions so 
congenial with those in which Langton had been educated, 
that he conceived for him that veneration and attachment 20 
which he ever preserved. 

Langton went to pursue his studies at Trinity College, 
Oxford, where Johnson saw much of him during a visit 
which he paid to the University. He found him in close 
intimacy with Topham Beauclerc, a youth two years older 25 
than himself, very gay and dissipated, and wondered what 
sympathies could draw two young men together of such 
opposite characters. On becoming acquainted with Beau- 
clerc he found that, rake though he was, he possessed an 
ardent love of literature, an acute understanding, polished 30 
wit, innate gentility, and high aristocratic breeding. He 
was, moreover, the only son of Lord Sidney Beauclerc and 
grandson of the Duke of St. Albans, and was thought in 
some particulars to have a resemblance to Charles the 



132 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Second. These were high recommendations with Johnson ; 
and when the youth testified a profound respect for him 
and an ardent admiration of his talents, the conquest was 
complete, so that in a "short time," says Boswell, "the 
5 moral pious Johnson and the gay dissipated Beauclerc were 
companions." 

The intimacy begun in college chambers was continued 
when the youths came to town during the vacations. The 
uncouth, unwieldy moralist was flattered at finding himself 

lo an object of idolatry to two high-born, high-bred, aristocratic 
young men, and throwing gravity aside, was ready to join in 
their vagaries and play the part of a "young man upon 
town." Such at least is the picture given of him by Bos- 
well on one occasion when Beauclerc and Langton, having 

15 supped together at a tavern, determined to give Johnson a 
rouse at three o'clock in the morning. They accordingly 
rapped violently at the door of his chambers in the Temple. 
The indignant sage sallied forth in his shirt, poker in hand, 
and a little black wig on the top of his head, instead of hel- 

20 met; prepared to wreak vengeance on the assailants of his 
castle; but when his two young friends Lankey and Bean, 
as he used to call them, presented themselves, summoning 
him forth to a morning ramble, his whole manner changed. 
"What, is it you, ye dogs?" cried he. "Faith I'll have a 

25 frisk with you ! " 

So said so done. They sallied forth together into Covent- 
Garden ; figured among the green-grocers and fruit-women, 
just come in from the country with their hampers ; repaired 
to a neighboring tavern, where Johnson brewed a bowl of 

30 bishops a favorite beverage with him, grew merry over his 
cups, and anathematized sleep in two lines, from Lord Lans- 
downe's drinking-song : — 

" Short, very short, be then thy reign, 
For I' m in haste to laugh and drink again." 



LANGTON AND BEAUCLERC 1 33 

They then took boat again, rowed to Billingsgate, and John- 
son and Beauclerc determined, like "mad wags," to "keep 
it up " for the rest of the day. Langton, however, the most 
sober-minded of the three, pleaded an engagement to break- 
fast with some young ladies ; whereupon the great moralist 5 
reproached him with " leaving his social friends to go and 
sit with a set of wretched u?i-idea^d guXs.^^ 

This madcap freak of the great lexicographer made a sen- 
sation, as may well be supposed, among his intimates. " I 
heard of your frolic t'other night," said Garrick to him; 10 
"you'll be in the 'Chronicle.'" He uttered worse forebod- 
ings to others. " I shall have my old friend to bail out of 
the round-house," said he. Johnson, however, valued him- 
self upon having thus enacted a chapter in the " Rake's 
Progress," and crowed over Garrick on the occasion. '■^ He 15 
durst not do such a thing ! " chuckled he ; " his wife would 
not let him ! " 

When these two young men entered the club, Langton 
was about twenty-two, and Beauclerc about twenty-four years 
of age, and both were launched on London life. Langton, 20 
however, was still the mild, enthusiastic scholar, steeped to 
the lips in Greek, with fine conversational powers, and an 
invaluable talent for listening. He was upwards of six feet 
high, and very spare. " Oh ! that we could sketch him," 
exclaims Miss Hawkins, in her " Memoirs," " with his mild 25 
countenance, his elegant features, and his sweet smile, sitting 
with one leg twisted round the other, as if fearing to occupy 
more space than was equitable ; his person inclining forward, 
as if wanting strength to support his weight, and his arms 
crossed over his bosom, or his hands locked together on his 30 
knee." Beauclerc, on such occasions, sportively compared 
him to a stork in Raphael's Cartoons, standing on one 
leg. Beauclerc was more a " man upon town," a lounger 
in St. James's Street, an associate with George Selwyn, with 



134 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Walpole, and other aristocratic wits ; a man of fashion at 
court ; a casual frequenter of the gaming-table ; yet, with 
all this, he alternated in the easiest and happiest manner 
the scholar and the man of letters ; lounged into the club 
5 with the most perfect self-possession, bringnig with him the 
careless grace and polished wit of high-bred society, but 
making himself cordially at home among his learned fellow- 
members. 

The gay yet lettered rake maintained his sway over John- 

lo son, who was fascinated by that air of the world, that inef- 
fable tone of good society in which he felt himself deficient, 
especially as the possessor of it always paid homage to his 
superior talent. " Beauclerc," he would say, using a quota- 
tion from Pope, " has a love of folly, but a scorn of fools ; 

15 everything he does shows the one, and everything he says, 
the other." Beauclerc delighted in rallying the stern moralist 
of whom others stood in awe, and no one, according to 
Boswell, could take equal liberty with him with impunity. 
Johnson, it is well known, was often shabby and negligent 

20 in his dress, and not over-cleanly in his person. On receiv- 
ing a pension from the crown, his friends vied with each other 
in respectful congratulations. Beauclerc simply scanned his 
person with a whimsical glance, and hoped that, like Falstaff, 
"he'd in future purge and live cleanly like a gentleman." 

25 Johnson took the hint with unexpected good-humor, and 
profited by it. 

Still Beauclerc's satirical vein, which darted shafts on every 
side, was not always tolerated by Johnson. " Sir," said he 
on one occasion, "you never open your mouth but with 

30 intention to give pain ; and you have often given me pain, 
not from the power of what you have said, but from seeing 
your intention." 

When it was at first proposed to enroll Goldsmith among 
the members of this association, there seems to have been 



GOLDSMITH AT THE CLUB 135 

some demur ; at least so says the pompous Hawkins. " As 
he wrote for the booksellers, we of the club looked on him 
as a mere literary drudge, equal to the task of compiling 
and translating, but little capable of original and still less of 
poetical composition." 5 

Even for some time after his admission he continued to 
be regarded in a dubious light by some of the members. 
Johnson and Reynolds, of course, were well aware of his 
merits, nor was Burke a stranger to them ; but to the others 
he was as yet a sealed book, and the outside was not pre- 10 
possessing. His ungainly person and awkward manners were 
against him with men accustomed to the graces of society, 
and he was not sufficiently at home to give play to his humor 
and to that bonhommie which won the hearts of all who 
knew him. He felt strange and out of place in this new 15 
sphere ; he felt at times the cool satirical eye of the courtly 
Beauclerc scanning him, and the more he attempted to 
appear at his ease, the more awkward he became. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Describe the members of the club. 

2. What are some of Sir Joshua Reynolds's pictures that may be 
seen in this country ? 

3. Why should the meetings of the club have become famous ? Is 
there any club in this country the meetings of which correspond in any 
sense with the meetings of the Johnson-Goldsmith club ? 

4. Why does Irving give more space to Langton and Beauclerc than 
to the other members ? 



CHAPTER XV 

Johnson a Monitor to Goldsmith; Finds him in Distress with his Landlady; 
Relieved by the Vicar of Wakefield — The Oratorio — Poem of the Traveller 
— The Poet and his Dog — Success of the Poem — Astonishment of the 
Club — Observations on the Poem. 

Johnson had now become one of Goldsmith's best friends 
and advisers. He knew all the weak points of his character, 
but he knew also his merits ; and while he would rebuke 
him like a child, and rail at his errors and follies, he would 
5 suffer no one else to undervalue him. Goldsmith knew the 
soundness of his judgment and his practical benevolence, 
and often sought his counsel and aid amid the difficulties 
into which his heedlessness was continually plunging him. 
" I received one morning," says Johnson, " a message 

ro from poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and, as 
it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would 
come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and 
promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as 
soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady had 

15 arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent pas- 
sion : I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, 
and had a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put 
the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began 
to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. 

20 He then told me he had a novel ready for the press, which 
he produced to me. I looked into it and saw its merit ; 
told the landlady I should soon return ; and, having gone 
to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Gold- 
smith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without 

25 rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill." 

136 



THE "VICAR OF WAKEFIELD" 137 

The novel in question was the " Vicar of Wakefield " ; the 
bookseller to whom Johnson sold it was Francis Newbery, 
nephew to John. Strange as it may seem, this captivating 
work, which has obtained and preserved an almost unrivalled 
popularity in various languages, was so little appreciated by 5 
the bookseller, that he kept it by him for nearly two years 
unpublished ! 

Goldsmith had, as yet, produced nothing of moment in 
poetry. Among his literary jobs, it is true, was an Oratorio 
entitled "The Captivity," founded on the bondage of the 10 
Israelites in Babylon. It was one of those unhappy off- 
springs of the Muse ushered into existence amid the dis- 
tortions of music. Most of the Oratorio has passed into 
oblivion ; but the following song from it will never die. 

" The wretch condemned from life to part, 15 

Still, still on hope relies, 
And every pang that rends the heart 
Bids expectation rise. 

" Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, 

Illumes and cheers our way; ' 20 

And still, as darker grows the night, 
Emits a brighter ray." 

Goldsmith distrusted his qualifications to succeed in 
poetry, and doubted the disposition of the public mind in 
regard to it. ''I fear," said he, "I have come too late into 25 
the world ; Pope and other poets have taken up the places 
in the temple of Fame ; and as few at any period can pos- 
sess poetical reputation, a man of genius can now hardly 
acquire it." Again, on another occasion, he observes: "Of 
all kinds of ambition, as things are now circumstanced, per- 30 
haps that which pursues poetical fame is the wildest. What 
from the increased refinement of the times, from the diversity 
of judgment produced by opposing systems of criticism, and 
from the more prevalent divisions of opinion influenced by 



138 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

party, the strongest and happiest efforts can expect to please 
but in a very narrow circle." 

At this very time he had by him his poem of " The Trav- 
eller." The plan of it, as has already been observed, was 
5 conceived many years before, during his travels in Switzer- 
land, and a sketch of it sent from that country to his brother 
Henry in Ireland. The original outline is said to have 
embraced a wider scope ; but it was probably contracted 
through diffidence, in the process of finishing the parts. 

10 It had laid by him for several years in a crude state, and it 
was with extreme hesitation and after much revision that he 
at length submitted it to Dr. Johnson. The frank and warm 
approbation of the latter encouraged him to finish it for 
the press ; and Dr. Johnson himself contributed a few lines 

15 towards the conclusion. 

We hear much about "poetic inspiration," and the " poet's 
eye in a fine phrensy rolling ; " but Sir Joshua Reynolds gives 
an anecdote of Goldsmith while engaged upon his poem, cal- 
culated to cure our notions about the ardor of composition. 

20 Calling upon the poet one day, he opened the door without 
ceremony, and found him in the double occupation of turning 
a couplet and teaching a pet dog to sit upon his haunches. 
At one time he would glance his eye at his desk, and at 
another shake his finger at the dog to make him retain his 

25 position. The last lines on the page were still wet; they 
form a part of the description of Italy : 

" By sports like these are all their cares beguiled, 
The sports of children satisfy the child." 

Goldsmith, with his usual good-humor, joined in the laugh 
30 caused by his whimsical employment, and acknowledged 
that his boyish sport with the dog suggested the stanza. 

The poem was published on the 19th of December, 1764, 
in a quarto form, by Newbery, and was the first of .his works 



ASTONISHMENT OF THE CLUB 139 

to which Goldsmith prefixed his name. As a testimony of 
cherished and well-merited affection, he dedicated it to his 
brother Henry. There is an amusing affectation of indif- 
ference as to its fate expressed in the dedication. "What 
reception a poem may find," says he, " which has neither 5 
abuse, party, nor blank verse to support it, I cannot tell, nor 
am I solicitous to know." The truth is, no one was more 
emulous and anxious for poetic fame ; and never was he 
more anxious than in the present instance, for it was his 
grand stake. Mr. Johnson aided the launching of the poem 10 
by a favorable notice in the " Critical Review "; other peri- 
odical works came out in its favor. Some of the author's 
friends complained that it did not command instant and 
wide popularity; that it was a poem to win, not to strike: 
it went on rapidly increasing in favor; in three months a 15 
second edition was issued ; shortly afterwards, a third ; then 
a fourth; and, before the year was out, the author was pro- 
nounced the best poet of his time. 

The appearance of "The Traveller " at once altered Gold- 
smith's intellectual standing in the estimation of society ; but 20 
its effect upon the club, if we may judge from the account 
given by Hawkins, was almost ludicrous. They were lost in 
astonishment that a " newspaper essayist " and "bookseller's 
drudge " should have written such a poem. On the evening 
of its announcement to them Goldsmith had gone away early, 25 
after "rattling away as usual," and they knew not how to 
reconcile his heedless garrulity with the serene beauty, the 
easy grace, the sound good sense, and the occasional ele- 
vation of his poetry. They could scarcely believe that such 
magic numbers had flowed from a man to whom in general, 30 
says Johnson, " it was with difficulty they could give a 
hearing." "Well," exclaimed Chamier, "I do believe he 
wrote this poem himself, and let me tell you, that is believing 
a great deal." 



140 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

At the next meeting of the club, Chamier sounded the 
author a little about his poem. " Mr, Goldsmith," said he, 
" what do you mean by the last word in the first line of 
your 'Traveller,' 'Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow^? 
5 — do you mean tardiness of locomotion ? " — " Yes," replied 
Goldsmith, inconsiderately, being probably flurried at the 
moment. " No, sir," interposed his protecting friend John- 
son, " you did not mean tardiness of locomotion ; you meant 
that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in soli- 

10 tude." "Ah," exclaimed Goldsmith, '■'■that was what I 
meant." Chamier immediately believed that Johnson him- 
self had written the line, and a rumor became prevalent 
that he was the author of many of the finest passages. 
This was ultimately set at rest by Johnson himself, who 

15 marked with a pencil all the verses he had contributed, nine 
in number, inserted towards the conclusion, and by no means 
the best in the poem. He moreover, with generous warmth, 
pronounced it the finest poem that had appeared since the 
days of Pope. 

20 But one of the highest testimonials to the charm of the 
poem was given by Miss Reynolds, who had toasted poor 
Goldsmith as the ugliest man of her acquaintance. Shortly 
after the appearance of " The Traveller," Dr. Johnson read 
it aloud from beginning to end in her presence. "Well," 

25 exclaimed she, when he had finished, " I never more shall 
think Dr. Goldsmith ugly ! " 

On another occasion, when the merits of " The Traveller " 
were discussed at Reynolds's board, Langton declared "there 
was not a bad line in the poem, not one of Dryden's care- 

30 less verses." " I was glad," observed Reynolds, " to hear 
Charles Fox say it was one of the finest poems in the Eng- 
lish language." "Why was you glad?" rejoined Langton, 
" you surely had no doubt of this before." " No," interposed 
Johnson, decisively ; " the merit of ' The Traveller ' is so well 



INCARNATE TOADYISM 14I 

established that Mr. Fox's praise cannot augment it, nor his 
censure diminish it." 

Boswell, who was absent from England at the time of the 
■pubhcation of the " Traveller," was astonished, on his return, 
to find Goldsmith, whom he had so much undervalued, sud- 5 
denly elevated almost to a par with his idol. He accounted 
for it by concluding that much both of the sentiments and 
expression of the poem had been derived from conversations 
with Johnson. " He imitates you, sir," said this incarnation 
of toadyism. " Why no, sir," replied Johnson, " Jack Hawks- 10 
worth is one of my imitators, but not Goldsmith. Goldy, 
sir, has great merit." " But, sir, he is much indebted to you 
for his getting so high in the public estimation." " Why, sir, 
he has, perhaps, got sooner to it by his intimacy with me." 

The poem went through several editions in the course of 15 
the first year, and received some few additions and correc- 
tions from the author's pen. It produced a golden harvest 
to Mr. Newbery; but all the remuneration on record, doled 
out by his niggard hand to the author, was twenty guineas! 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Make an outline for a composition on Goldsmith's heedlessness. 
Develop the first two main divisions of your outline into an essay of 
about two hundred words. 

2. Has the contemporary judgment of about 1765, regarding Gold- 
smith as the best poet of his time, been sustained.? What other poets 
wrote at about this period ? 

3. What characteristics in the man Goldsmith made possible his 
writing " The Traveller " ? 

4. What was Goldsmith's pay for the two poems which made his 
everlasting fame ? 

5. What was the first of Goldsmith's works to which he prefixed 
his name ? Why had his name not been printed as the author of 
preceding works ? 



CHAPTER XVI 

New Lodgings — Johnson's Compliment — A Titled Patron — The Poet at 
Northumberland House — His Independence of the Great — The Countess 
of Northumberland — Edwin and Angelina — Gosfield and Lord Clare — 
PubUcation of Essays — Evils of a Rising Reputation — Hangers-on — Job- 
Writing — Goody Two-shoes — A Medical Campaign — Mrs. Sidebotham. 

Goldsmith, now that he was rising in the world, and 
becoming a notoriety, felt himself called upon to improve 
his style of living. He accordingly emerged from Wine- 
Office Court, and took chambers in the Temple. It is true 

5 they were but of humble pretensions, situated on what was 
then the library staircase, and it would appear that he was 
a kind of inmate with Jeffs, the butler of the society. Still 
he was in the Temple, that classic region rendered famous 
by the Spectator and other essayists as the abode of gay 

lo wits and thoughtful men of letters ; and which, with its 
retired courts and embowered gardens, in the very heart 
of a noisy metropolis, is, to the quiet-seeking student and 
author, an oasis freshening with verdure in the midst of a 
desert. Johnson, who had become a kind of growling super- 

15 visor of the poet's affairs, paid him a visit soon after he had 
installed himself in his new quarters, and went prying about 
the apartment, in his near-sighted manner, examining every- 
thing minutely. Goldsmith was fidgeted by this curious 
scrutiny, and apprehending a disposition to find fault, ex- 

20 claimed, with the air of a man who had money in both 
pockets, " I shall soon be in better chambers than these." 
The harmless bravado drew a reply from Johnson, which 
touched the chord of proper pride. " Nay, sir," said he, 
"never mind that Nil te quaesiveris extra," — implying 

J43 



A TITLED PATRON 143 

that his reputation rendered him independent of outward 
show. Happy would it have been for poor Goldsmith, 
could he have kept this consolatory compliment perpetu- 
ally in mind, and squared his expenses accordingly. 

Among the persons of rank who were struck with the 5 
merits of the "Traveller" was the Earl (afterwards Duke) 
of Northumberland. He procured several other of Gold- 
smith's writings, the perusal of which tended to elevate the 
author in his good opinion, and to gain for him his good 
will. The Earl held the office of Lord-Lieutenant of Ire- 10 
land, and understanding Goldsmith was an Irishman, was 
disposed to extend to him the patronage which his high post 
afforded. He intimated the same to his relative. Dr. Percy, 
who, he found, was well acquainted with the poet, and 
expressed a wish that the latter should wait upon him. 15 
Here, then, was another opportunity for Goldsmith to better 
his fortune, had he been knowing and worldly enough to 
profit by it. Unluckily the path to fortune lay through 
the aristocraticai mazes of Northumberland House, and the 
poet blundered at the outset. The following is the account 20 
he used to give of his visit : " I dressed myself in the best 
manner I could, and, after studying some compliments I 
thought necessary on such an occasion, proceeded to North- 
umberland House, and acquainted the servants that I had 
particular business with the Duke. They showed me into 25 
an antechamber, where, after waiting some time, a gentle- 
man, very elegantly dressed, made his appearance: taking 
him for the Duke, I delivered all the fine things I had com- 
posed in order to compliment him on the honor he had done 
me ; when, to my great astonishment, he told me I had mis- 30 
taken him for his master, who would see me immediately. 
At that instant the Duke came into the apartment, and I 
v/as so confounded on the occasion that I wanted words 
barely sufficient to express the sense I entertained of the 



144 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Duke's politeness, and went away exceedingly chagrined at 
the blunder I had committed.'' 

Sir John Hawkins, in his " Life of Dr. Johnson," gives 
some farther particulars of this visit, of which he was, in part, 
5 a witness. " Having one day," says he, " a call to make on 
the late Duke (then Earl) of Northumberland, I found Gold- 
smith waiting for an audience in an outer room : I asked 
him what had brought him there ; he told me, an invitation 
from his lordship. I made my business as short as I could, 

10 and, as a reason, mentioned that Dr. Goldsmith was waiting 
without. The Earl asked me if I was acquainted with him. 
I told him that I was, adding what I thought was most 
likely to recommend him. I retired, and stayed in the outer 
room to take him home. Upon his coming out, I asked 

15 him the result of his conversation. 'His lordship,' said he, 
'told me he had read my poem, meaning the "Traveller," 
and was much delighted with it; that he was going to be 
lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and that, hearing I was a native 
of that country, he should be glad to do me any kindness.' 

20 'And what did you answer,' said I, 'to this gracious offer? ' 
'Why,' said he, 'I could say nothing but that I had a 
brother there, a clergyman, that stood in need of help: as 
for myself, I have no great dependence on the promises of 
great men; I look to the booksellers for support; they are 

25 my best friends, and I am not inclined to forsake them for 
others.'" "Thus," continues Sir John, "did this idiot in 
the affairs of the world trifle with his fortunes, and put back 

- the hand that was held out to assist him." 

We cannot join with Sir John in his worldly sneer at the 

30 conduct of Goldsmith on this occasion. While we admire 
that honest independence of spirit which prevented him 
from asking favors for himself, we love that warmth of affec- 
tion which instantly sought to advance the fortunes of a 
brother; but the pecuHar merits of poor Goldsmith seem to 



INDEPENDENCE OF CHARACTER 145 

have been little understood by the Hawkinses, the Boswells, 
and the other biographers of the day. 

After all, the introduction to Northumberland House did 
not prove so complete a failure as the humorous account 
given by Goldsmith, and the cynical account given by Sir 5 
John Hawkins, might lead one to suppose. Dr. Percy, the 
heir male of the ancient Percies, brought the poet into the 
acquaintance of his kinswoman, the countess; who, before 
her marriage with the Earl, was in her own right heiress of 
the House of Northumberland. " She was a lady," says 10 
Boswell, '' not only of high dignity of spirit, such as became 
her noble blood, but of excellent understanding and lively 
talents." Under her auspices a poem of Goldsmith's had 
an aristocratical introduction to the world. This was the 
beautiful ballad of "The Hermit," originally published 15 
under the name of " Edwin and Angelina." It was sug- 
gested by an old English ballad beginning " Gentle Herds- 
man," shown him by Dr. Percy, who was at that time mak- 
ing his famous collection, entitled " Reliques of Ancient 
English Poetry," which he submitted to the inspection of 20 
Goldsmith prior to publication. A few copies only of " The 
Hermit " were printed at first, with the following title- 
page : " Edwin and Angelina : a Ballad. By Mr. Gold- 
smith. Printed for the Amusement of the Countess of 
Northumberland." 25 

All this, though it may not have been attended with any 
immediate pecuniary advantage, contributed to give Gold- 
smith's name and poetry the high stamp of fashion, so 
potent in England: the circle at Northumberland House, 
however, was of too stately and aristocratical a nature to be 30 
much to his taste, and we do not find that he became 
familiar in it. 

He was much more at home at Gosfield, the seat of his 
countryman, Robert Nugent, afterwards Baron Nugent and 



146 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Viscount Clare, who appreciated his merits even more 
heartily than the Earl of Northumberland, and occasionally 
made him his guest both in town and country. Nugent is 
described as a jovial voluptuary, who left the Roman-Catho- 
5 lie for the Protestant religion, with a view to bettering his 
fortunes ; he had an Irishman's inclination for rich widows, 
and an Irishman's luck with the sex; having been thrice 
married, and gained a fortune with each wife. He was 
now nearly sixty, with a remarkably loud voice, broad Irish 

10 brogue, and ready, but somewhat coarse wit. With all his 
occasional coarseness he was capable of high thought, and 
had produced poems which showed a truly poetic vein. 
He was long a member of the House of Commons, where 
his ready wit, his fearless decision, and good-humored 

15 audacity of expression always gained him a hearing, though 
his tall person and awkward manner gained him the nick- 
name of Squire Gawky among the political scribblers of 
the day. With a patron of this jovial temperament, Gold- 
smith probably felt more at ease than with those of higher 

20 refinement. 

The celebrity which Goldsmith had acquired by his poem 
of " The Traveller " occasioned a resuscitation of many of 
his miscellaneous and anonymous tales and essays from 
the various newspapers and other transient publications in 

25 which they lay dormant. These he published in 1765, in 
a collected form, under the title of " Essays by Mr. Gold- 
smith." " The following Essays," observes he in his pref- 
ace, "have already appeared at different times, and in 
different publications. The pamphlets in which they were 

30 inserted being generally unsuccessful, these shared the com- 
mon fate, without assisting the booksellers' aims, or extend- 
ing the author's reputation. The public were too strenuously 
employed with their own follies to be assiduous in estimat- 
ing mine ; so that many of my best attempts in this way 



IRISH HANGERS-ON 



147 



have fallen victims to the transient topic of the times — the 
Ghost in Cock Lane, or the Siege of Ticonderoga. 

" But, though they have passed pretty silently into the 
world, I can by no means complain of their circulation. 
The magazines and papers of the day have indeed been 5 
liberal enough in this respect. Most of these essays have 
been regularly reprinted twice or thrice a year, and con- 
veyed to the public through the kennel of some engaging 
compilation. If there be a pride in multiplied editions, I 
have seen some of my labors sixteen times reprinted, and 10 
claimed by different parents as their own. I have seen 
them flourished at the beginning with praise, and signed at 
the end with the names of Philautos, Philalethes, Phileleu- 
theros, and Philanthropos. It is time, however, at last to 
vindicate my claims; and as these entertainers of the pub- 15 
lie, as they call themselves, have partly lived upon me for 
some years, let me now try if I cannot live a little upon 
myself." 

It was but little, in fact; for all the pecuniary emolument 
he received from the volume was twenty guineas. It had a 20 
good circulation, however, was translated into French, and 
has maintained its stand among the British classics. 

Notwithstanding that the reputation of Goldsmith had 
greatly risen, his finances were often at a very low ebb, 
owing to his heedlessness as to expense, his liability to be 25 
imposed upon, and a spontaneous and irresistible propensity 
to give to every one who asked. The very rise in his repu- 
tation had increased these embarrassments. It had enlarged 
his circle of needy acquaintances, authors poorer in pocket 
than himself, who came in search of literary counsel ; which 30 
generally meant a guinea and a breakfast. And then his 
Irish hangers-on ! "Our Doctor," said one of these sponges, 
" had a constant levee of his distressed countrymen, whose 
wants, as far as he was able, he always relieved ; and he has 



148 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

often been known to leave himself without a guinea, in 
order to supply the necessities of others." 

This constant drainage of the purse therefore obliged him 
to undertake all jobs proposed by the booksellers, and. to 
5 keep up a kind of running account with Mr. Newbery ; who 
was his banker on all occasions, sometimes for pounds, 
sometimes for shillings; but who was a rigid accountant, 
and took care to be amply repaid in manuscript. Many 
effusions, hastily penned in these moments of exigency, 

10 were published anonymously, and never claimed. Some of 
them have but recently been traced to his pen ; while of 
many the true authorship will probably never be discovered. 
Among others, it is suggested, and with great probability, 
that he wrote for Mr. Newbery the famous nursery story of 

15 "Goody Two Shoes," which appeared in 1765, at a moment 
when Goldsmith was scribbling for Newbery, and much 
pressed for funds. Several quaint little tales introduced in 
his Essays show that he had a turn for this species of mock 
history; and the advertisement and title-page bear the stamp 

20 of his sly and playful humor. 

" We are desired to give notice that there is in the press, 
and speedily will be published, either by subscription or other- 
wise, as the public shall please to determine, the ' History 
of Little Goody Two Shoes, otherwise Mrs. Margery Two 

25 Shoes ' ; with the means by which she acquired learning and 
wisdom, and, in consequence thereof, her estate ; set forth 
at large for the benefit of those 

" Who, from a state of rags and care, 
And having shoes but half a pair, 
20 Their fortune and their fame should fix, 

And gallop in a coach and six." 

The world is probably not aware of the ingenuity, humor, 
good sense, and sly satire contained in many of the old Eng- 
lish nursery-tales. They have evidently been the sportive 



THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 149 

productions of able writers, who would not trust their names 
to productions that might be considered beneath their dig- 
nity. The ponderous works on which they relied for immor- 
tality have perhaps sunk into oblivion, and carried their names 
down with them ; while their unacknowledged offspring, "Jack 5 
the Giant Killer," " Giles Gingerbread," and " Tom Thumb," 
flourish in wide-spreading and never-ceasing popularity. 

As Goldsmith had now acquired popularity and an exten- 
sive acquaintance, he attempted, with the advice of his friends, 
to procure a more regular and ample support by resuming 10 
the medical profession. He accordingly launched himself 
upon the town in style ; hired a man-servant ; replenished his 
wardrobe at considerable expense, and appeared in a pro- 
fessional wig and cane, purple silk small-clothes, and a scar- 
let roquelaure buttoned to the chin : a fantastic garb, as we 15 
should think at the present day, but not unsuited to the 
fashion of the times. 

With his sturdy little person thus arrayed in the unusual 
magnificence of purple and fine linen, and his scarlet roque- 
laure flaunting from his shoulders, he used to strut into the 20 
apartments of his patients swaying his three-cornered hat in 
one hand and his medical sceptre, the cane, in the other, and 
assuming an air of gravity and importance suited to the solem- 
nity of his wig ; at least, such is the picture given of him by 
the waiting gentlewoman who let him into the chamber of 25 
one of his lady-patients. 

He soon, however, grew tired and impatient of the duties 
and restraints of his profession ; his practice was chiefly 
among his friends, and the fees were not sufficient for his 
maintenance ; he was disgusted with attendance on sick- 30 
chambers and capricious patients, and looked back with 
longing to his tavern-haunts and broad convivial meetings, 
from which the dignity and duties of his medical calling 
restrained him. At length, on prescribing to a lady of his 



150 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

acquaintance, who, to use a hackneyed phrase, " rejoiced " 
in the aristocratical name of Sidebotham, a warm dispute 
arose between him and the apothecary as to the quantity 
of medicine to be administered. The Doctor stood up for 
5 the rights and dignities of his profession, and resented the 
interference of the compounder of drugs. His rights and 
dignities, however, were disregarded ; his wig and cane and 
scarlet roquelaure were of no avail ; Mrs. Sidebotham sided 
with the hero of the pestle and mortar ; and Goldsmith flung 

10. out of the house in a passion, "I am determined hence- 
forth," said he to Topham Beauclerc, "to leave off pre- 
scribing for friends." " Do so, my dear Doctor," was the 
reply ; " whenever you undertake to kill, let it be only your 
enemies." 

15 This was the end of Goldsmith's medical career. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Was Sir John Hawkins too severe in calling Goldsmith an ** idiot 
in the affairs of the world " ? 

2. Describe Goldsmith dressed as a member of the medical profession. 
Tell how his medical career ended. Does it seem unlikely that a good 
physician could be a good poet ? 

3. Discuss the value of nursery tales as literature. [This, of course, 
presupposes an attempt to define literature.] 



CHAPTER XVII 

Publication of the " Vicar of Wakefield " ; Opinions concerning it : Of Dr. John- 
son ; Of Rogers the Poet; Of Goethe; Its Merits; Exquisite Extract — 
Attack by Kenrick — Reply — Book-Building — Project of a Comedy. 

The success of the poem of " The Traveller," and the pop- 
ularity which it had conferred on its author, now roused the 
attention of the bookseller in whose hands the novel of "The 
Vicar of Wakefield" had been slumbering for nearly two long 
years. The idea has generally prevailed that it was Mr. John 5 
Newbery to whom the manuscript had been sold, and much 
surprise has been expressed that he should be insensible to 
its merit and suffer it to remain unpublished, while putting 
forth various inferior writings by the same author. This, 
however, is a mistake ; it was his nephew, Francis Nev/bery, 10 
who had become the fortunate purchaser. Still the delay is 
equally unaccountable. Some have imagined that the uncle 
and nephew had business arrangements together, in which 
this work was included, and that the elder Newbery, dubious 
of its success, retarded the publication until the full harvest 15 
of " The Traveller " should be reaped. Booksellers are prone 
to make egregious mistakes as to the merit of works in man- 
uscripts ; and to undervalue, if not reject, those of classic 
and enduring excellence, when destitute of that false bril- 
liancy commonly called "effect." In the present instance, 20 
an intellect vastly superior to that of either of the booksellers 
was equally at fault. Dr. Johnson, speaking of the work to 
Boswell, some time subsequent to its publication, observed, 
" I myself did not think it would have much success. It 
was written and sold to a bookseller before ' The Traveller,' 25 
but published after, so little expectation had the bookseller 

151 



152 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

from it. Had it been sold after 'The Traveller,' he might 
have had twice as much money; though sixty guineas was no 
mean priced 

Sixty guineas for the " Vicar of Wakefield " ! and this 

5 could be pronounced no mea7i price by Dr. Johnson, at that 
time the arbiter of British talent, and who had had an oppor- 
tunity of witnessing the effect of the work upon the public 
mind ; for its success was immediate. It came out on the 
27th of March, 1766 ; before the end of May a second edition 

10 was called for; in three months more, a third; and so it 
went on, widening in a popularity that has never flagged. 
Rogers, the Nestor of British literature, whose refined purity 
of taste and exquisite mental organization rendered him emi- 
nently calculated to appreciate a work of the kind, declared 

15 that of all the books which through the fitful changes of 
three generations he had seen rise and fall, the charm of the 
" Vicar of Wakefield " had alone continued as at first ; and 
could he revisit the world after an interval of many more 
generations, he should as surely look to find it undiminished. 

20 Nor has its celebrity been confined to Great Britain. Though 
so exclusively a picture ,of British scenes and manners, it has 
been translated into almost every language, and everywhere 
its charm has been the same. Goethe, the great genius of 
Germany, declared in his eighty-first year, that it was his 

25 delight at the age of twenty, that it had in a manner formed 
a part of his education, influencing his taste and feelings 
throughout life, and that he had recently read it again from 
beginning to end — with renewed delight, and with a grate- 
ful sense of the early benefit derived from it. 

30 It is needless to expatiate upon the qualities of a work 
which has thus passed from country to country, and lan- 
guage to language, until it is now known throughout the 
whole reading world and is become a household book in 
every hand. The secret of its universal and enduring 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD 



153 



popularity is undoubtedly its truth to nature, but to nature of 
the most amiable kind, to nature such as Goldsmith saw it. 
The author, as we have occasionally shown in the course of 
this memoir, took his scenes and characters in this, as in his 
other writings, from originals in his own motley experience; 5 
but he has given them as seen through the medium of his 
own indulgent eye, and has set them forth with the colorings 
of his own good head and heart. Yet how contradictory it 
seems that this, one of the most delightful pictures of home 
and homefelt happiness should be drawn by a homeless man ; 10 
that the most amiable picture of domestic virtue and all the 
endearments of the married state should be drawn by a 
bachelor, who had been severed from domestic life, almost 
from boyhood ; that one of the most tender, touching, and 
affecting appeals on behalf of female loveliness should have 15 
been made by a man whose deficiency in all the graces of 
person and manner seemed to mark him out for a cynical 
disparager of the sex. 

We cannot refrain from transcribing from the work a short 
passage illustrative of what we have said, and which within 20 
a wonderfully small compass comprises a world of beauty of 
imagery, tenderness of feeling, delicacy and refinement of 
thought, and matchless purity of style. The two stanzas 
which conclude it, in which are told a whole history of 
woman's wrongs and sufferings, is, for pathos, simplicity, 25 
and euphony, a gem in the language. The scene depicted 
is where the poor Vicar is gathering around him the wrecks 
of his shattered family, and endeavoring to rally them back 
to happiness. 

" The next morning the sun arose with peculiar warmth 30 
for the season, so that we agreed to breakfast together on 
the honeysuckle bank ; where, while we sat, my youngest 
daughter at my request joined her voice to the concert on the 
trees about us. It was in this place my poor Olivia first met 



154 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

her seducer, and every object served to recall her sadness. 
But that melancholy which is excited by objects of pleasure, 
or inspired by sounds of harmony, soothes the heart instead 
of corroding it. Her mother, too, upon this occasion, felt a 
5 pleasing distress, and wept and loved her daughter as before. 
'Do, my pretty Olivia,' cried she, 'let us have that melan- 
choly air your father was so fond of ; your sister Sophy 
has already obliged us. Do, child, it will please your old 
father.' She compHed in a manner so exquisitely pathetic 
lo as moved me. 

" * When lovely woman stoops to folly, 
And finds too late that men betray, 
What charm can soothe her melancholy, 
What art can wash her guilt away ? 

15 " 'The only art her guilt to cover, 

To hide her shame from every eye, 
To give repentance to her lover, 

And wring his bosom — is to die,' " 

Scarce had the "Vicar of Wakefield" made its appearance 
20 and been received with acclamation, than its author was sub- 
jected to one of the usual penalties that attend success. He 
was attacked in the newspapers. In one of the chapters 
he had introduced his ballad of ''The Hermit," of which, as 
we have mentioned, a few copies had been printed some 
25 considerable time previously for the use of the Countess of 
Northumberland. This brought forth the following article 
in a fashionable journal of the day. 

" To the Printer of the ' St. James's Chronicled 

"Sir, — In the 'Reliques of Ancient Poetry,' published 

30 about two years ago, is a very beautiful little ballad, called 

' A Friar of Orders Gray.' The ingenious editor, Mr. Percy, 

supposes that the stanzas sung by Ophelia in the play of 



NEWSPAPER ATTACK I 55 

* Hamlet ' were parts of some ballad well known in Shaks- 
peare's time, and from these stanzas, with the addition of 
one or two of his own to connect them, he has formed the 
above-mentioned ballad ; the subject of which is, a lady 
comes to a convent to inquire for her love who had been 5 
driven there by her disdain. She is answered by a friar 
that he is dead : — 

• " ' No, no, he is dead, gone to his death's bed. 
He never will come again.' 

The lady weeps and laments her cruelty ; the friar endeavors 10 
to comfort her with morality and religion, but all in vain ; 
she expresses the deepest grief and the most tender senti- 
ments of love, till at last the friar discovers himself : — 

'* ' And lo ! beneath this gown of gray 

Thy own true love appears.' 15 

" This catastrophe is very fine, and the whole, joined with 
the greatest tenderness, has the greatest simplicity ; yet, 
though this ballad was so recently published in the 'Ancient 
Reliques,' Dr. Goldsmith has been hardy enough to publish 
a poem called 'The Hermit,' where the circumstances and 20 
catastrophe are exactly the same, only with this difference, 
that the natural simplicity and tenderness of the original are 
almost entirely lost in the languid smoothness and tedious 
paraphrase of the copy, which is as short of the merits of 
Mr. Percy's ballad as the insipidity of negus is to the genuine 25 
flavor of champagne. 

" I am, sir, yours, &c., 

" Detector." 

This attack, supposed to be by Goldsmith's constant per- 
secutor, the malignant Kenrick, drew from him the following 30 
note to the editor : — 



156 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

"Sir, — As there is nothing I dislike so much as news- 
paper controversy, particularly upon trifles, permit me to be 
as concise as possible in informing a correspondent of yours 
that I recommended ' Blainville's Travels ' because I thought 
5 the book was a good one ; and I think so still. I said I was 
told by the bookseller that it was then first published ; but 
in that it seems I was misinformed, and my reading was not 
extensive enough to set me right. 

"Another correspondent of yours accuses me of having 

10 taken a ballad I published some time ago, from one by 
the ingenious Mr. Percy. I do not think there is any great 
resemblance between the two pieces in question. If there 
be any, his ballad was taken from mine. I read it to Mr. 
Percy some years ago ; and he, as we both considered these 

15 things as trifles at best, told me, with his usual good-humor, 
the next time I saw him, that he had taken my plan to form 
the fragments of Shakspeare into a ballad of his own. He 
then read me his little Cento, if I may so call it, and I highly 
approved it. Such petty anecdotes as these are scarcely 

20 worth printing ; and, were it not for the busy disposition of 
some of your correspondents, the public should never have 
known that he owes me the hint of his ballad, or that I am 
obliged to his friendship and learning for communications of 
a much more important nature. 

25 " I am, sir, yours, &c., 

" Oliver Goldsmith." 

The unexpected circulation of the " Vicar of Wakefield " 
enriched the publisher, but not the author. Goldsmith no 
doubt thought himself entitled to participate in the profits 
30 of the repeated editions ; and a memorandum, still extant, 
shows that he drew upon Mr. Francis Newbery, in the 
month of June, for fifteen guineas, but that the bill was 
returned dishonored. He continued, therefore, his usual 



SENTIMENTAL COMEDY I 57 

job-work for the booksellers, writing introductions, prefaces, 
and head- and tail-pieces for new works ; revising, touching 
up, and modifying travels and voyages ; making compilations 
of prose and poetry, and " building books," as he sportively 
termed it. These tasks required little labor or talent, but 5 
that taste and touch which are the magic of gifted minds. 
His terms began to be proportioned to his celebrity. If his 
price was at any time objected to, " Why, sir," he would 
say, " it may seem large ; but then a man may be many 
years working in obscurity before his taste and reputation 10 
are fixed or estimated ; and then he is, as in other profes- 
sions, only paid for his previous labors." 

He was, however, prepared to try his fortune in a different 
walk of literature from any he had yet attempted. We have 
repeatedly adverted to his fondness for the drama; he was 15 
a frequent attendant at the theatres ; though, as we have 
shown, he considered them under gross mismanagement. 
He thought, too, that a vicious taste prevailed among those 
who wrote for the stage. " A new species of dramatic com- 
position," says he, in one of his essays, " has been intro- 20 
duced under the name of sentimental comedy, in which the 
virtues of private life are exhibited rather than the vices 
exposed ; and the distresses rather than the faults of man- 
kind make our interest in the piece. In these plays almost 
all the characters are good, and exceedingly generous ; they 25 
are lavish enough of their tin money on the stage ; and 
though they want humor, have .abundance of sentiment and 
feeling. If they happen to have faults or foibles, the spec- 
tator is taught not only to pardon, but to applaud them in 
consideration of the goodness of their hearts ; so that folly, 30 
instead of being ridiculed, is commended, and the comedy 
aims at touching our passions, without the power of being 
truly pathetic. In this manner we are likely to lose one 
great source of entertainment on the stage ; for while the 



158 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

comic poet is invading the province of the tragic muse, he 
leaves her lively sister quite neglected. Of this, however, 
he is no ways solicitous, as he measures his fame by his 

profits 

5 " Humor at present seems to be departing from the stage ; 
and it will soon happen that our comic players will have 
nothing left for it but a fine coat and a song. It depends 
upon the audience whether they will actually drive those poor 
merry creatures from the stage, or sit at a play as gloomy as 

10 at the tabernacle. It is not easy to recover an art when once 
lost; and it will be a just punishment, that when, by our being 
too fastidious, we have banished humor from the stage, we 
should ourselves be deprived of the art of laughing." 

Symptoms of reform in the drama had recently taken 

IS place. The comedy of the "Clandestine Marriage," the 
joint production of Colman and Garrick, and suggested by 
Hogarth's inimitable pictures of Marriage a la mode, had 
taken the town by storm, crowded the theatre with fashion- 
able audiences, and formed one of the leading literary topics 

20 of the year. Goldsmith's emulation was roused by its suc- 
cess. The comedy was in what he considered the legitimate 
line, totally different from the sentimental school ; it pre- 
sented pictures of real life, delineations of character and 
touches of humor, in which he felt himself calculated to 

25 excel. The consequence was, that in the course of this 
year (1766) he commenced a comedy of the same class, to 
be entitled the " Good-Naturexi Man," at which he diligently 
wrought whenever the hurried occupation of " book-build- 
ing" allowed him leisure. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 159 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. How do you account for the fact that " The Vicar of Wakefield " 
was translated into " almost every language " ? 

2. What do you find that is commendable in Goldsmith's letter to 
the editor of the St. Jameses Chronicle? Explain why 'the "forms 
of closing" of most letters nowadays differ from the usual endings of 
Goldsmith's letters. 

3. Would sixty guineas in our day be considered good pay for a 
novel reaching three editions in a few months ? 

4. Discuss Goldsmith's ideas on the drama. 

5. Have any "egregious mistakes" regarding the value of manu- 
scripts been made of recent years by American publishers ? 

6. " Humor at present seems to be departing from the stage." Is 
this true now? 



CHAPTER XVIII 

Social Position of Goldsmith; His Colloquial Contests with Johnson — 
Anecdotes and Illustrations, 

The social position of Goldsmith had undergone a material 
change since the publication of " The Traveller." Before 
that event he was but partially known as the author of some 
clever anonymous writings, and had been a tolerated mem- 
5 ber of the club and the Johnson circle, without much being 
expected from him. Now he had suddenly risen to literary 
fame, and become one of the lions of the day. The highest 
regions of intellectual society were now open to him ; but he 
was not prepared to move in them with confidence and suc- 

10 cess. Ballymahon had not been a good school of manners 
at the outset of* life ; nor had his experience as a " poor 
student " at colleges and medical schools contributed to give 
him the polish of society. He had brought from Ireland, 
as he said, nothing but his "brogue and his blunders," and 

15 they had never left him. He had travelled, it is true ; but 
the Continental tour which in those days gave the finishing 
grace to the education of a patrician youth, had, with poor 
Goldsmith, been little better than a course of literary vaga- 
bondizing. It had enriched his mind, deepened and widened 

20 the benevolence of his heart, and filled his memory with 
enchanting pictures, but it had contributed little to disci- 
plining him for the polite intercourse of the world. His life 
in London had hitherto been a struggle with sordid cares 
and sad humiliations. "You scarcely can conceive," wrote 

25 he some time previously to his brother, "how much eight 
years of disappointment, anguish, and study have worn me 

160 



SOCIAL POSITION OF GOLDSMITH i6l 

down." Several more years had since been added to the 
term during which he had trod the lowly walks of life. He 
had been a tutor, an apothecary's drudge, a petty physician 
of the suburbs, a bookseller's hack, drudging for daily bread. 
Each separate walk had been beset by its peculiar thorns 5 
and humiliations. It is wonderful how his heart retained 
its gentleness and kindness through all these trials ; how 
his mind rose above the " meannesses of poverty," to which, 
as he says, he was compelled to submit ; but it would be 
still more wonderful, had his manners acquired a tone corre- 10 
sponding to the innate grace and refinement of his intellect. 
He was near forty years of age when he published " The 
Traveller," and was lifted by it into celebrity. As is beauti- 
fully said of him by one of his biographers, " he has fought 
his way to consideration and esteem ; but he bears upon 15 
him the scars of his twelve years' conflict ; of the mean 
sorrows through which he has passed ; and of the cheap 
indulgences he has sought relief and help from. There is 
nothing plastic in his nature now. His manners and habits 
are completely formed ; and in them any further success can 20 
make little favorable change, whatever it may effect for his 
mind or genius." ^ 

We are not to be surprised, therefore, at finding him make 
an awkard figure in the elegant drawing-rooms which were 
now open to him, and disappointing those who had formed 25 
an idea of him from the fascinating ease and gracefulness of 
his poetry. 

Even the literary club, and the circle of which it formed 
a part, after their surprise at the intellectual flights of which 
he showed himself capable, fell into a conventional mode of 30 
judging and talking of him, and of placing him in absurd 
and whimsical points of view. His very celebrity operated 
here to his disadvantage. It brought him into continual 

1 Forster's " Goldsmith." 



l62 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

comparison with Johnson, who was the oracle of that circle 
and had given it a tone. Conversation was the great staple 
there, and of this Johnson was a master. He had been a 
reader and thinker from childhood : his melancholy temper- 
5 ament, which unfitted him for the pleasures of youth, had 
made him so. For many years past the vast variety of works 
he had been obliged to consult in preparing his Dictionary, 
had stored an uncommonly retentive memory with facts on 
all kinds of subjects ; making it a perfect colloquial armory. 

lo " He had all his life," says Boswell, " habituated himself to 
consider conversation as a trial of intellectual vigor and skill. 
He had disciplined himself as a talker as well as a writer, 
making it a rule to impart whatever he knew in the most 
forcible language he could put it in, so that by constant prac- 

15 tice and never suffering any careless expression to escape 
him, he had attained an extraordinary accuracy and command 
of language." 

His conversation in all companies, according to Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, was such as to secure him universal attention, some- 

20 thing above the usual colloquial style being always expected 
from him. 

"I do not care," said Orme, the historian of Hindostan, 
" on what subject Johnson talks ; but I love better to hear 
him talk than anybody. He either gives you new thoughts 

25 or a new coloring," 

A stronger and more graphic eulogium is given by Dr. 
Percy. " The conversation of Johnson," says he, " is strong 
and clear, and may be compared to an antique statue, where 
every vein and muscle is distinct and clear." 

30 Such was the colloquial giant with which Goldsmith's 
celebrity and his habits of intimacy brought him into con- 
tinual comparison ; can we wonder that he should appear 
to disadvantage ? Conversation grave, discursive, and dis- 
putatious, such as Johnson excelled and delighted in, was to 



GOLDSMITH'S CONVERSATION 163 

him a severe task, and he never was good at a task of any 
kind. He had not, like Johnson, a vast fund of acquired 
facts to draw upon ; nor a retentive memory to furnish them 
forth when wanted. He could not, like the great lexicogra- 
pher, mould his ideas and balance his periods while talking. 5 
He had a flow of ideas, but it was apt to be hurried and 
confused ; and, as he said of himself, he had contracted a 
hesitating and disagreeable manner of speaking. He used 
to say that he always argued best when he argued alone ; 
that is to say, he could master a subject in his study, with 10 
his pen in his hand ; but when he came into company he 
grew confused, and was unable to talk about it. Johnson 
made a remark concerning him to somewhat of the same 
purport. " No man," said he, " is more foolish than Gold- 
smith when he has not a pen in his hand, or more wise 15 
when he has." Yet with all this conscious deficiency he 
was continually getting involved in colloquial contests with 
Johnson and other prime talkers of the literary circle. He 
felt that he had become a notoriety, that he had entered the 
lists and was expected to make fight ; so with that heedless- 20 
ness which characterized him in everything else he dashed 
on at a venture, trusting to chance in this as in other things, 
and hoping occasionally to make a lucky hit. Johnson per- 
ceived his hap-hazard temerity, but gave him no credit for 
the real diffidence which lay at bottom. " The misfortune 25 
of Goldsmith in conversation," said he, "is this, he goes on 
without knowing how he is to get off. His genius is great, 
but his knowledge is small. As they say of a generous man 
it is a pity he is not rich, we may say of Goldsmith it is 
a pity he is not knowing. He would not keep his knowl- 30 
edge to himself." And, on another occasion, he observes : 
"Goldsmith, rather than not talk, will talk of what he knows 
himself to be ignorant, which can only end in exposing him. 
If in company with two founders, he would fall a-talking on 



l64 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

the method of making cannon, though both of them would 
soon see that he did not know what metal a cannon is 
made of." And again: "Goldsmith should not be forever 
attempting to shine in conversation ; he has not temper 
5 for it, he is so much mortified when he fails. Sir, a game 
of jokes is composed partly of skill, partly of chance ; a 
man may be beat at times by one who has not the tenth 
part of his wit. Now Goldsmith, putting himself against 
another, is like a man laying a hundred to one, who can- 

10 not spare the hundred. It is not worth a man's while. 
A man should not lay a hundred to one unless he can 
easily spare it, though he has a hundred chances for 
him; he can get but a guinea, and he may lose a hundred. 
Goldsmith is in this state. When he contends, if he 

15 gets the better, it is a very little addition to a man of 
his literary reputation; if he does not get the better, he 
is miserably vexed." 

Johnson was not aware how much he was himself to blame 
in producing this vexation. " Goldsmith," said Miss Reyn- 

20 olds, " always appeared to be overawed by Johnson, par- 
ticularly when in company with people of any consequence ; 
always as if impressed with fear of disgrace ; and indeed 
well he might. I have been witness to many mortifications 
he has suffered in Dr. Johnson's company." 

25 It may not have been disgrace that he feared, but rude- 
ness. The great lexicographer, spoiled by the homage of 
society, was still more prone than himself to lose temper 
when the argument went against him. He could not brook 
appearing to be worsted, but would attempt to bear down 

30 his adversary by the rolHng thunder of his periods, and, 
when that failed, would become downright insulting. Bos- 
well called it " having recourse to some sudden mode of 
robust sophistry"; but Goldsmith designated it much more 
happily. <' There is no arguing with Johnson," said he, 



FABLE OF THE LITTLE FISHES 165 

"y^r, when his pistol misses fire ^ he knocks you down with the 
but- end of it J' ^ 

In several of the intellectual collisions recorded by Boswell 
as triumphs of Dr. Johnson it really appears to us that Gold- 
smith had the best both of the wit and the argument, and 5 
especially of the courtesy and good-nature. 

On one occasion he certainly gave Johnson a capital 
reproof as to his own colloquial peculiarities. Talking of 
fables, Goldsmith observed that the animals introduced in 
them seldom talked in character. " For instance," said he, 10 
"the fable of the little fishes, who saw birds fly over their 
heads, and, envying them, petitioned Jupiter to be changed 
into birds. The skill consists in making them talk like little 
fishes." Just then observing that Dr. Johnson was shaking 
his sides and laughing, he immediately added, "Why, Dr. 15 
Johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to think ; for, if you 
were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales." 

But though Goldsmith suffered frequent mortifications in 
society from the overbearing, and sometimes harsh, conduct 
of Johnson, he always did justice to his benevolence. When 20 
royal pensions were granted to Dr. Johnson and Dr. Sheb- 
beare, a punster remarked, that the king had pensioned a 
she-bear and a he-bear ; to which Goldsmith replied, "Johnson, 
to be sure, has a roughness in his manner, but no man alive 
has a more tender heart. He has ?iothi?ig of the bear but 25 
the skin^ 

Goldsmith, in conversation, shone most when he least 
thought of shining; when he gave up all effort to appear 
wise and learned, or to cope with the oracular sententious- 
ness of Johnson, and gave way to his natural impulses. 30 

1 The following is given by Boswell, as an instance of robust sophistry : — 
" Once, when I was pressing upon him with visible advantage, he stopped me 
thus — ' My dear Boswell, let 's have no more of this ; you '11 make nothing of it ; 
I 'd rather hear you whistle a Scotch tune.' " 



l66 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Even Boswell could perceive his merits on these occasions. 
" For my part," said he, condescendingly, " I like very well 
to hear honest Goldsmith talk away carelessly " ; and many 
a much wiser man than Boswell delighted in those outpour- 
5 ings of a fertile fancy and a generous heart. In his happy 
moods, Goldsmith had an artless simplicity and buoyant 
good-humor, that led to a thousand amusing blunders and 
whimsical confessions, much to the entertainment of his 
intimates ; yet in his most thoughtless garrulity there was 
10 occasionally the gleam of the gold and the flash of the 
diamond. 

TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Make an outline for the life of Goldsmith from 1728 to 1767 
under main headings suggested by Irving's statements in the first para- 
graph of this chapter. 

2. Compare Goldsmith and Johnson as conversationalists. 

3. What is to be gained in the art of conversation by never allowing 
a " careless " expression to escape one ? 

4. From what does it plainly appear that Irving admires the subject 
of his biography ? Do you share in the admiration ? Why ? Would 
Irving's admiration be likely to make his statements about the life of 
Goldsmith unreliable ? 

5. Discuss Goldsmith in society. (Chapters XVIII and XIX.) 

6. Why should the literary club get into the habit of placing Gold- 
smith in an absurd light ? 



CHAPTER XIX 

Social Resorts — The Shilling Whist-Club — A Practical Joke— The Wednes- 
day Club— The ''Tun of Man" — The Pig-Butcher — Tom King— Hugh 
Kelly — Glover and his Characteristics. 

Though Goldsmith's pride and ambition led him to mingle 
occasionally with high society, and to engage in the collo- 
quial conflicts of the learned circle, in both of which he was 
ill at ease and conscious of being undervalued, yet he had 
some social resorts in which he indemnified himself for their 5 
restraints by indulging his humor without control. One of 
them was a shilling whist-club, which held its meetings at 
the Devil Tavern, near Temple Bar, a place rendered classic, 
we are told, by a club held there in old times, to which " rare 
Ben Jonson " had furnished the rules. The company was 10 
of a familiar, unceremonious kind, delighting in that very 
questionable wit which consists in playing off practical jokes 
upon each other. Of one of these Goldsmith was made the 
butt. Coming to the club one night in a hackney-coach, he 
gave the coachman by mistake a guinea instead of a shilling, 15 
which he set down as a dead loss, for there was no likeli- 
hood, he said, that a fellow of this class would have the 
honesty to return the money. On the next club-evening he 
was told a person at the street-door wished to speak with 
him. He went forth, but soon returned with a radiant 20 
countenance. To his surprise and delight the coachman 
had actually brought back the guinea. While he launched 
forth in praise of this unlooked-for piece of honesty, he 
declared it ought not to go unrewarded. Collecting a small 
sum from the club, and no doubt increasing it largely from 25 
his own purse, he dismissed the Jehu with many encomiums 

167 



l68 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

on his good conduct. He was still chanting his praises, 
when one of the club requested a sight of the guinea thus 
honestly returned. To Goldsmith's confusion it proved to 
be a counterfeit. The universal burst of laughter which 

5 succeeded, and the jokes by which he was assailed on every 
side, showed him that the whole was a hoax, and the pre- 
tended coachman as much a counterfeit as the guinea. He 
was so disconcerted, it is said, that he soon beat a retreat 
for the evening. 

lo Another of those free and easy clubs met on Wednesday 
evenings at the Globe Tavern in Fleet Street. It was some- 
what in the style of the Three Jolly Pigeons : songs, jokes, 
dramatic imitations, burlesque parodies, and broad sallies 
of humor, formed a contrast to the sententious morality, 

15 pedantic casuistry, and polished sarcasm of the learned 
circle. Here a huge " tun of man," by the name of Gordon, 
used to delight Goldsmith by singing the jovial song of Not- 
tingham Ale, and looking like a butt of it. Here, too, a 
wealthy pig-butcher, charmed, no doubt, by the mild phi- 

20 lanthropy of " The Traveller," aspired to be on the most 
sociable footing with the author ; and here was Tom King, 
the comedian, recently risen to consequence by his perform- 
ance of Lord Ogleby in the new comedy of " The Clandestine 
Marriage." 

25 A member of more note was one Hugh Kelly, a second- 
rate author, who, as he became a kind of competitor of 
Goldsmith's, deserves particular mention. He was an Irish- 
man, about twenty-eight years of age, originally apprenticed 
to a staymaker in Dublin ; then writer to a London attorney; 

30 then a Grub-Street hack ; scribbling for magazines and news- 
papers. Of late he had set up for theatrical censor and 
satirist, and in a paper called "Thespis," in emulation of 
Churchill's " Rosciad," had harassed many of the poor actors 
without mercy, and often without wit ; but had lavished his 



HUGH KELLY — GLOVER 169 

incense on Garrick, who, in consequence, took him into 
favor. He was the author of several works of superficial 
merit, but which had sufficient vogue to inflate his vanity. 
This, however, must have been mortified on his first intro- 
duction to Johnson ; after sitting a short time he got up to 5 
take leave, expressing a fear that a longer visit might be 
troublesome. " Not in the least, sir," said the surly moralist, 
"I had forgotten you were in the room." Johnson used 
to speak of him as a man who had written more than he 
had read. 10 

A prime wag of this club was one of Goldsmith's poor 
countrymen and hangers-on, by the name of Glover. He 
had originally been educated for the medical profession, but 
had taken in early life to the stage, though apparently with- 
out much success. While performing at Cork, he undertook, 15 
partly in jest, to restore life to the body of a malefactor, 
who had just been executed. To the astonishment of every 
one, himself among the number, he succeeded. The miracle 
took wind. He abandoned the stage, resumed the wig and 
cane, and considered his fortune as secure. Unluckily, there 20 
were not many dead people to be restored to life in Ireland ; 
his practice did not equal his expectation, so he came to 
London, where he continued to dabble indifferently, and 
rather unprofitably, in physic and literature. 

He was a great frequenter of the Globe and Devil taverns, 25 
where he used to amuse the company by his talent at story- 
telling and his powers of mimicry, giving capital imitations 
of Garrick, Foote, Colman, Sterne, and other public char- 
acters of the day. He seldom happened to have money 
enough to pay his reckoning, but was always sure to find 30 
some ready purse among those who had been amused by his 
humors. Goldsmith, of course, was one of the readiest. It 
was through him that Glover was admitted to the Wednesday 
Club, of which his theatrical imitations became the delight. 



I/O OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Glover, however, was a little anxious for the dignity of his 
patron, which appeared to him to suffer from the over- 
familiarity of some of the members of the club. He was 
especially shocked by the free and easy tone in which Gold- 
5 smith was addressed by the pig-butcher. "Come, Noll," 
would he say, as he pledged him, " here 's my service to 
you, old boy ! " 

Glover whispered to Goldsmith, that he " should not allow 
such liberties." "Let him alone," was the reply, "you'll 

10 see how civilly I '11 let him down." After a time, he called 
out, with marked ceremony and politeness, *' Mr. B., I have 
the honor of drinking your good health." Alas ! dignity 
was not poor Goldsmith's forte : he could keep no one at 
a distance. " Thank'ee, thank'ee, Noll," nodded the pig- 

15 butcher, scarce taking the pipe out of his mouth. "I don't 
see the effect of your reproof," whispered Glover. " I give 
it up," replied Goldsmith, with a good-humored shrug; "I 
ought to have known before now there is no putting a pig 
in the right way." 

20 Johnson used to be severe upon Goldsmith for mingling 
in these motley circles, observing, that, having been originally 
poor, he had contracted a love for low company. Goldsmith, 
however, was guided not by a taste for what was low, but 
for what was comic and characteristic. It was the feeling 

25 of the artist ; the feeling which furnished out some of his 
best scenes in familiar life ; the feeling with which " rare 
Ben Jonson " sought these very haunts and circles in days 
of yore, to study " Every Man in his Humor." 

It was not always, however, that the humor of these asso- 

30 ciates was to his taste : as they became boisterous in their 
merriment, he was apt to become depressed. "The com- 
pany of fools," says he, in one of his essays, "may at first 
make us smile, but at last never fails of making us melan- 
choly." " Often he would become moody," says Glover, 



THE WEDNESDAY CLUB 171 

"and would leave the party abruptly to go home and brood 
over his misfortune." 

It is possible, however, that he went home for quite a 
different purpose : to commit to paper some scene or pas- 
sage suggested for his comedy of " The Good-natured Man." 
The elaboration of humor is often a most serious task ; and 
we have never witnessed a more perfect picture of mental 
misery than was once presented to us by a popular dramatic 
writer — still, we hope, living — whom we found in the ago- 
nies of producing a farce which subsequently set the theatres 
in a roar. 

TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Does the incident of the counterfeit guinea seem to show a malig- 
nant spirit toward Goldsmith on the part of the members of the whist 
club ? 

2. Does it seem incongruous that a pig butcher should be charmed 
by " The Traveller " ? 

3. What was a Grub-Street hack ? 

4. Is it a severe criticism of a man to say that he wrote more than 
he read ? 

5. Where and how did Goldsmith get the nickname " Noll " ? 

6. Describe the members of the club that met at the Globe Tavern. 
How did this club differ from the literary club? 



CHAPTER XX 

The Great Cham of Literature and the King — Scene at Sir Joshua Reynolds's 
— Goldsmith accused of Jealousy — Negotiations with Garrick — The Author 
and the Actor ; Their Correspondence. 

The comedy of "The Good-natured Man" was completed 
by Goldsmith early in 1767, and submitted to the perusal of 
Johnson, Burke, Reynolds, and others of the literary club, 
by whom it was heartily approved. Johnson, who was seldom 
5 half-way either in censure or applause, pronounced it the best 
comedy that had been written since " The Provoked Hus- 
band," and promised to furnish the prologue. This imme- 
diately became an object of great solicitude with Goldsmith, 
knowing the weight an introduction from the Great Cham 

10 of literature would have with the public ; but circumstances 
occurred which he feared might drive the comedy and the 
prologue from Johnson's thoughts. The latter was in the 
habit of visiting the royal library at the Queen's (Bucking- 
ham) House, a noble collection of books, in the formation 

15 of which he had assisted the librarian, Mr. Bernard, with his 
advice. One evening, as he was seated there by the fire 
reading, he was surprised by the entrance of the King 
(George IH), then a young man, who sought this occasion 
to have a conversation with him. The conversation was 

20 varied and discursive, the King shifting from subject to sub- 
ject according to his wont. " During the whole interview," 
says Boswell, "Johnson talked to his Majesty with profound 
respect, but still in his open, manly manner, with a sonorous 
voice, and never in that subdued tone which is commonly 

25 used at the levee and in the drawing-room. ' I found his 
Majesty wished I should talk,' said he, 'and I made it my 

172 



JOHNSON AND THE KING 173 

business to talk. I find it does a man good to be talked to 
by his sovereign. In the first place, a man cannot be in a 
passion.' " It would have been well for Johnson's colloquial 
disputants, could he have often been under such decorous 
restraint. Profoundly monarchical in his principles, he 5 
retired from the interview highly gratified with the conver- 
sation of the King and with his gracious behavior. " Sir," 
said he to the librarian, " they may talk of the King as they 
will, but he is the finest gentleman I have ever seen." — 
"Sir," said he subsequently to Bennet Langton, "his man- 10 
ners are those of as fine a gentleman as we may suppose 
Louis the Fourteenth or Charles the Second." 

While Johnson's face was still radiant with the reflex of 
royalty, he was holding forth one day to a listening group 
at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, who were anxious to hear every 15 
particular of this memorable conversation. Among other 
questions, the King had asked him whether he was writing 
anything. His reply was, that he thought he had already 
done his part as a writer. " I should have thought so too," 
said the King, "if you had not written so well." — "No 20 
man," said Johnson, commenting on this speech, " could 
have made a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a 
King to pay. It was decisive." — " But did you make no 
reply to this high compliment ? " asked one of the company. 
"No, sir," replied the profoundly deferential Johnson ; "when 25 
the King had said it, it was to be so. It was not for me to 
bandy civilities with my sovereign." 

During all the time that Johnson w^as thus holding forth, 
Goldsmith, who was present, appeared to take no interest in 
the royal theme, but remained seated on a sofa at a distance, 30 
in a moody fit of abstraction ; at length recollecting himself, 
he sprang up, and advancing, exclaimed, with what Boswell 
calls his usual "frankness and simplicity," — "Well, you 
acquitted yourself in this conversation better than I should 



174 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

have done, for I should have bowed and stammered through 
the whole of it." He afterwards explained his seeming 
inattention by saying that his mind was completely occupied 
about his play, and by fears lest Johnson, in his present 
5 state of royal excitement, would fail to furnish the much- 
desired prologue. 

How natural and truthfut is this explanation. Yet Bos- 
well presumes to pronounce Goldsmith's inattention affected, 
and attributes it to jealousy. " It was strongly suspected," 

10 says he, " that he was fretting with chagrin and envy at the 
singular honor Dr. Johnson had lately enjoyed." It needed 
the littleness of mind of Boswell to ascribe such pitiful 
motives to Goldsmith, and to entertain such exaggerated 
notions of the honor paid to Dr. Johnson. 

15 "The Good-natured Man" was now ready for performance, 
but the question was, how to get it upon the stage. The 
affairs of Covent Garden, for which it had been intended, 
were thrown into confusion by the recent death of Rich, the 
manager. Drury Lane was under the management of Gar- 

20 rick ; but a feud, it will be recollected, existed between him 
and the poet, from the animadversions of the latter on the 
mismanagement of theatrical affairs, and the refusal of the 
former to give the poet his vote for the secretaryship of 
the Society of Arts. Times, however, were changed. Gold- 

25 smith, when that feud took place, was an anonymous writer, 
almost unknown to fame, and of no circulation in society. 
Now he had become a literary lion ; he was a member of 
the Literary Club ; he was the associate of Johnson, Burke, 
Topham Beauclerc, and other magnates, — in a word, he 

30 had risen to consequence in the public eye, and of course 
was of consequence in the eyes of David Garrick. Sir 
Joshua Reynolds saw the lurking scruples of pride existing 
between the author and actor, and thinking it a pity that 
two men of such congenial talents, and who might be so 



NEGOTIATIONS WITH GARRICK 175 

serviceable to each other, should be kept asunder by a 
worn-out pique, exerted his friendly offices to bring them 
together. The meeting took place in Reynolds's house in 
Leicester Square. Garrick, |iowever, could not entirely put 
off the mock majes.ty of the stage ; he meant to be civil, but 5 
he was rather too gracious and confi'escending. Tom Davies, 
in his "Life of Garrick," gives an amusing picture of the 
coming together of these punctilious parties. " The man- 
ager," says he, "was fully conscious of his (Goldsmith's) 
merit, and perhaps more ostentatious of his abilities to serve 10 
a dramatic' author than became a man of his prudence ; 
Goldsmith was, on his side, as fully persuaded of his own 
importance and independent greatness. Mr. Garrick, who 
had so long been treated with the complimentary language 
paid to a successful patentee and admired actor, expected 15 
that the writer would esteem the patronage of his play a 
favor; Goldsmith rejected all ideas of kindness in a bargain 
that was intended to be of mutual advantage to both parties, 
and in this he was certainly justifiable; Mr. Garrick could 
reasonably expect no thanks for the acting a new play, which 20 
he would have rejected if he had not been convinced it would 
have amply rewarded his pains and expense. I believe the 
manager was willing to accept the play, but he wished to be 
courted to it ; and the Doctor was not disposed to purchase 
his friendship by the resignation of his sincerity." They 25 
separated, however, with an understanding on the part of 
Goldsmith that his play would be acted. The conduct of 
Garrick subsequently proved evasive, not through any linger- 
ings of past hostility, but from habitual indecision in matters 
of the kind, and from real scruples of delicacy. He did not 30 
think the piece likely to succeed on the stage, and avowed 
that opinion to Reynolds and Johnson, — but hesitated to 
say as much to Goldsmith, through fear of wounding his 
feelings. A further misunderstanding was the result of this 



176 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

want of decision and frankness ; repeated interviews and 
some correspondence took place without bringing matters 
to a point, and in the mean time the theatrical season passed 
away. 
5 Goldsmith's pocket, never well supplied, suffered griev- 
ously by this delay, and he considered himself entitled to 
call upon the manager, who still talked of acting the play, 
to advance him forty pounds upon a note of the younger 
Newbery. Garrick readily complied, but subsequently sug- 

10 gested certain important alterations in the comedy as indis- 
pensable to its success ; these were indignantly rejected by 
the author, but pertinaciously insisted on by the manager. 
Garrick proposed to leave the matter to the arbitration of 
Whitehead, the laureate, who officiated as his " reader " and 

15 elbow-critic. Goldsmith was more indignant than ever, and 
a violent dispute ensued, which was only calmed by the 
interference of Burke and Reynolds. 

Just at this time, order came out of confusion in the affairs 
of Covent Garden. A pique having risen between Colman 

20 and Garrick, in the course of their joint authorship of " The 
Clandestine Marriage," the former had become manager and 
part-proprietor of Covent Garden, and was preparing to open 
a powerful competition with his former colleague. On hear- 
ing of this, Goldsmith made overtures to Colman ; who, with- 

25 out waiting to consult his fellow-proprietors, who were absent, 
gave instantly a favorable reply. Goldsmith felt the contrast 
of this warm, encouraging conduct, to the chilling delays and 
objections of Garrick. He at once abandoned his piece to 
the discretion of Colman. " Dear sir," says he, in a letter 

30 dated Temple Garden Court, July 9th, "I am very much 
obliged to you for your kind partiaUty in my favor, and 
your tenderness in shortening the interval of my expectation. 
That the play is liable to many objections I well know, but 



LETTER TO GARRICK 177 

I am happy that it is in hands the most capable in the world 
of removing them. If then, dear sir, you will complete your 
favor by putting the piece into such a state as it may be acted, 
or of directing me how to do it, I shall ever retain a sense 
of your goodness to me. And indeed, though most probably 5 
this be the last I shall ever write, yet I can't help feeling a 
secret satisfaction that poets for the future are hkely to have 
a protector who declines taking advantage of their dread- 
ful situation — and scorns that importance which may be 
acquired by trifling with their anxieties." 10 

The next day Goldsmith wrote to Garrick, who was at 
Litchfield, informing him of his having transferred his piece 
to Covent Garden, for which it had been originally written, 
and by the patentee of which it was claimed, observing, 
"As I found you had very great difficulties about that piece, 15 
I complied with his desire. ... I am extremely sorry that 
you should thmk me warm at our last meeting; your judg- 
ment certainly ought to be free, especially in a matter which 
must in some measure concern your own credit and interest. 
I assure you, sir, I have no disposition to differ with you on 20 
this or any other account, but am, with an high opinion of 
your abilities, and a very real esteem, sir, your most obedient 
humble servant. Oliver Goldsmith." 

In his reply, Garrick observed, " I was, indeed, much hurt 
that your warmth at our last meeting mistook my sincere and 25 
friendly attention to your play for the remains of a former 
misunderstanding, which I had as much forgot as if it had 
never existed. What I said to you at my own house I now 
repeat, that I felt more pain in giving my sentiments than 
you possibly would in receiving them. It has been the busi- 30 
ness, and ever will be, of my life to live on the best terms with 
men of genius ; and I know that Dr. Goldsmith will have no 
reason to change his previous friendly disposition towards 



1/8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

me, as I shall be glad of every future opportunity to con- 
vince him how much I am his obedient servant and well- 
wisher. D. Garrick." 

TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Is Johnson appropriately called the " Great Cham of Literature " ? 

2. Explain the meaning of the term " poet laureate." Name some of 
the poets laureate. Are you anticipating that Goldsmith will be chosen 
poet laureate before his death ? 

3. Why does not Irving insert the dates of more of Goldsmith's 
letters which he quotes.? 



CHAPTER XXI 

More Hack-Authorship — Tom Davies and the Roman History — Canonbury 
Castle — PoHtical Authorship — Pecuniary Temptation — Death of New- 
bery the Elder. 

Though Goldsmith's comedy was now in train to be per- 
formed, it could not be brought out before Christmas ; in the 
mean time he must live. Again, therefore, he had to resort 
to literary jobs for his daily support. These obtained for 
him petty occasional sums, the largest of which was ten 5 
pounds, from the elder Newbery, for an historical compila- 
tion ; but this scanty rill of quasi patronage, so sterile in 
its products, was likely soon to cease ; Newbery being too 
ill to attend to business, and having to transfer the whole 
management of it to his nephew. 10 

At this time Tom Davies, the sometime Roscius, sometime 
bibliopole, stepped forward to Goldsmith's relief, and pro- 
posed that he should undertake an easy popular history of 
Rome in two volumes. An arrangement was soon made. 
Goldsmith undertook to complete it in two years, if possible, 15 
for two hundred and fifty guineas, and forthwith set about 
his task with cheerful alacrity. As usual, he sought a rural 
retreat during the summer months, where he might alter- 
nate his literary labors with strolls about the green fields. 
" Merry Islington " was again his resort, but he now aspired 20 
to better quarters than formerly, and engaged the chambers 
occupied occasionally by Mr. Newbery, in Canonbury House, 
or Castle, as it is popularly called. This had been a hunting- 
lodge of Queen EHzabeth, in whose time it was surrounded 
by parks and forests. In Goldsmith's day, nothing remained 25 
of it but an old brick tower ; it was still in the country amid 

179 



l8o OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

rural scenery, and was a favorite nestling-place of authors, 
publishers, and others of the literary order. ^ A number of 
these he had for fellow-occupants of the castle ; and they 
formed a temporary club, which held its meetings at the 

5 Crown Tavern, on the Islington lower road; and here he pre- 
sided in his own genial style, and was the life and delight of 
the company. 

The writer of these pages visited old Canonbury Castle 
some years since, out of regard to the memory of Goldsmith. 

10 The apartment was still shown which the poet had inhabited, 
consisting of a sitting-room and small bedroom, with pan- 
elled wainscots and Gothic windows. The quaintness and 
quietude of the place were still attractive. It was one of 
the resorts of citizens on their Sunday walks, who would 

15 ascend to the top of the tower and amuse themselves with 
reconnoitring the city through a telescope. Not far from 
this tower were the gardens of the White Conduit House, 
a Cockney Elysium, where Goldsmith used to figure in the 
humbler days of his fortune. In the first edition of his 

20 Essays he speaks of a stroll in these gardens, where he at 
that time, no doubt, thought himself in perfectly genteel 
society. After his rise in the world, however, he became 
too knowing to speak of such plebeian haunts. In a new 
edition of his Essays, therefore, the White Conduit House 

25 and its garden disappears, and he speaks of " a stroll in 
the Park." 

1 See on the distant slope, majestic shows 
Old Canonbury's tower, an ancient pile 
To various fates assigned ; and where by turns 
Meanness and grandeur have alternate reign'd ; 
Thither, in latter days, hath genius fled 
From yonder city, to respire and die. 
There the sweet bard of Auburn sat, and tuned 
The plaintive moanings of his village dirge. 
There learned Chambers treasured lore for men^ 
And Newbery there his A-B-C's for babes. 



PECUNIARY TEMPTATION l8l 

While Goldsmith was literally living from hand to mouth 
by the forced drudgery of the pen, his independence of spirit 
was subjected to a sore pecuniary trial. It was the opening 
of Lord North's administration, a time of great political 
excitement. The public mind was agitated by the question 5 
of American taxation, and other questions of like irritating 
tendency. Junius and Wilkes and other powerful writers 
were attacking the administration with all their force ; Grub 
Street was stirred up to its lowest depths ; inflammatory 
talent of all kinds was in full activity, and the kingdom w^as 10 
deluged with pamphlets, lampoons, and libels of the grossest 
kinds. The ministry were looking anxiously round for liter- 
ary support. It was thought that the pen of Goldsmith 
might be readily enlisted. His hospitable friend and coun- 
tryman, Robert Nugent, politically known as Squire Gawky, 15 
had come out strenuously for colonial taxation ; had been 
selected for a lordship of the board of trade, and raised to 
the rank of Baron Nugent and Viscount Clare. His example, 
it was thought, would be enough of itself to bring Goldsmith 
into the ministerial ranks ; and then what writer of the day 20 
was proof against a full purse or a pension? Accordingly 
one Parson Scott, chaplain to Lord Sandwich, and author of 
"Anti Sejanus Panurge," and other political libels in sup- 
port of the administration, was sent to negotiate with the 
poet, who at this time was returned to town. Dr. Scott, 25 
in after-years, when his political subserviency had been 
rewarded by two fat crown-livings, used to make what he 
considered a good story out of this embassy to the poet. 
" I found him," said he, ''in a miserable suit of chambers in 
the Temple. I told him my authority : I told how I was 30 
empowered to pay most liberally for his exertions ; and, 
would you believe it ! he was so absurd as to say, ' I can 
earn as much as will supply my wants without writing for 
any party ; the assistance you offer is therefore unnecessary 



I82 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

to me ' ; — and so I left him in his garret ! " Who does not 
admire the sturdy independence of poor Goldsmith toiling 
in his garret for nine guineas the job, and smile with con- 
tempt at the indignant wonder of the political divine, albeit 

5 his subserviency was repaid by two fat crown-livings ? 

Not long after this occurrence. Goldsmith's old friend, 
though frugal-handed employer, Newbery, of picture-book 
renown, closed his mortal career. The poet has celebrated 
him as the friend of all mankind ; he certainly lost nothing 

by his friendship. He coined the brains of his authors in 
the times of their exigency, and made them pay dear for the 
plank put out to keep them from drowning. It is not likely 
his death caused much lamentation among the scribbling 
tribe ; we may express decent respect for the memory of the 

5 just, but we shed tears only at the grave of the generous. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Goldsmith's independence. 

2. Tell what Goldsmith gained by spending the summer months 
mostly in the country. 

3. Did Goldsmith take any part in the politics of his time.'' 



CHAPTER XXII 

Theatrical Manoeuvring — The Comedy of "False Delicacy" — First Perform- 
ance of " The Good-natured Man " — Conduct of Johnson — Conduct of 
the Author — Intermeddling of the Press. 

The comedy of "The Good-natured Man" was doomed 
to experience delays and difficulties to the very last. Gar- 
rick, notwithstanding his professions, had still a lurking 
grudge against the author, and tasked his managerial arts 
to thwart him in his theatrical enterprise. For this purpose 5 
he undertook to build up Hugh Kelly, Goldsmith's boon 
companion of the Wednesday club, as a kind of rival. 
Kelly had written a comedy called "False Delicacy," in 
which were embodied all the meretricious qualities of the 
sentimental school. Garrick, though he had decried that lo 
school, and had brought out his comedy of "The Clan- 
destine Marriage " in opposition to it, now lauded " False 
Delicacy " to the skies, and prepared to bring it out at 
Drury Lane with all possible stage-effect. He even went so 
far as to write a prologue and epilogue for it, and to touch 15 
up some parts of the dialogue. He had become reconciled 
to his former colleague, Colman, and it is intimated that one 
condition in the treaty of peace between these potentates of 
the realms of pasteboard (equally prone to play into each 
other's hands with the confederate potentates on the great 20 
theatre of life) was, that Goldsmith's play should be kept 
back until Kelly's had been brought forward. 

In the mean time the poor author, little dreaming of the 
deleterious influence at work behind the scenes, saw the 
appointed time arrive and pass by without the performance 25 
of his play ; while " False Delicacy " was brought out at 

183 



l84 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Drury Lane (January 23, 1768) with all the trickery of mana- 
gerial management. Houses were packed to applaud it to 
the echo ; the newspapers vied with each other in their venal 
praises, and night after night seemed to give it a fresh 
5 triumph. 

While " False Delicacy " was thus borne on the full tide 
of fictitious prosperity, "The Good-natured Man" was 
creeping through the last rehearsals at Covent Garden. 
The success of the rival piece threw a damp upon author, 

io manager, and actors. Goldsmith went about with a face 
full of anxiety; Colman's hopes in the piece declined at 
each rehearsal ; as to his fellow-proprietors, they declared 
they had never entertained any. All the actors were dis- 
contented with their parts, except Ned Shuter, an excellent 

15 low comedian, and a pretty actress named Miss Walford ; 
both of whom the poor author ever afterward held in grateful 
recollection. 

Johnson, Goldsmith's growling monitor and unsparing 
castigator in times of heedless levity, stood by him at 

20 present with that protecting kindness with which he ever 
befriended him in time of need. He attended the rehearsals ; 
he furnished the prologue according to promise ; he pish'd 
and pshaw'd at any doubts and fears on the part of the 
author, but gave him sound counsel, and held him up with 

25 a steadfast and manly hand. Inspirited by his sympathy. 
Goldsmith plucked up new heart, and arrayed himself for 
the grand trial with unusual care. Ever since his elevation 
into the poUte world, he had improved in his wardrobe and 
toilet. Johnson could no longer accuse him of being shabby 

30 in his appearance ; he rather went to the other extreme. 
On the present occasion there is an entry in the books of 
his tailor, Mr. William Filby, of a suit of " Tyrian bloom, 
satin grain, and garter blue silk breeches, £S 2s. yd." Thus 
magnificently attired, he attended the theatre and watched 



THEATRICAL MANCEUVRING 185 

the reception of the play, and the effect of each individual 
scene, with that vicissitude of feeling incident to his mercurial 
nature. 

Johnson's prologue was solemn in itself, and being deliv- 
ered by Brinsley in lugubrious tones suited to the ghost in 5 
"Hamlet," seemed to throw a portentous gloom on the 
audience. Some of the scenes met with great applause, and 
at such times Goldsmith was highly elated ; others went off 
coldly, or there were, slight tokens of disapprobation, and 
then his spirits would sink. The fourth act saved the piece ; 10 
for Shuter, who had the main comic character of Croaker, 
was so varied and ludicrous in his execution of the scene 
in which he reads an incendiary letter, that he drew down 
thunders of applause. On his coming behind the scenes. 
Goldsmith greeted him with an overflowing heart; declaring 15 
that he exceeded his own idea of the character, and made it 
almost as nevv to him as to any of the audience. 

On the whole, however, both the author and his friends 
were disappointed at the reception of the piece, and con- 
sidered it a failure. Poor Goldsmith left the theatre with 20 
his towering hopes completely cut down. He endeavored 
to hide his mortification, and even to assume an air of 
unconcern while among his associates ; but the moment he 
was alone with Dr. Johnson, in whose rough but magnani- 
mous nature he reposed unlimited confidence, he threw off 25 
all restraint and gave way to an almost childlike burst of 
grief. Johnson, who had shown no want of sympathy at the 
proper time, saw nothing in the partial disappointment of 
overrated expectations to warrant such ungoverned emotions, 
and rebuked him sternly for what he termed a silly affecta- 30 
tion, saying that " No man should be expected to sympathize 
with the sorrows of vanity." 

When Goldsmith had recovered from the blow, he, with 
his usual unreserve, made his past distress a subject of 



l86 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

amusement to his friends. Dining one day, in company with 
Dr. Johnson, at the chaplain's table at St. James's Palace, he 
entertained the company with a particular and comic account 
of all his feelings on the night of representation, and his 

5 despair when the piece was hissed. How he went, he said, 
to the Literary Club ; chatted gayly, as if nothing had gone 
amiss ; and, to give a greater idea of his unconcern, sang his 
favorite song about an old woman tossed in a blanket seven- 
teen times as high as the moon "All this while," 

10 added he, " I was suffering horrid tortures, and, had I put 
a bit in my mouth, I verily believe it would have strangled 
me on the spot, I was so excessively ill ; but I made more 
noise than usual to cover all that ; so they never perceived 
my not eating, nor suspected the anguish of my heart ; but 

15 when all were gone except Johnson here, I burst out a-crying, 
and even swore that I would never write again." 

Dr. Johnson sat in amaze at the odd frankness and child- 
like self-accusation of poor Goldsmith. When the latter 
had come to a pause, " All this. Doctor," said he, dryly, " I 

20 thought had been a secret between you and me, and I am 
sure I would not have said anything about it for the world." 
But Goldsmith had no secrets : his follies, his weaknesses, 
his errors were all thrown to the surface; his heart was 
really too guileless and innocent to seek mystery and con- 

25 cealment. It is too often the false, designing man that is 
guarded in his conduct and never offends proprieties. 

It is singular, however, that Goldsmith, who thus in con- 
versation could keep nothing to himself, should be the 
author of a maxim which would inculcate the most thorough 

30 dissimulation. " Men of the world," says he in one of the 
papers of the " Bee," " maintain that the true end of speech 
is not so much to express our wants as to conceal them." 
How often is this quoted as one of the subtle remarks of the 
fine-witted Talleyrand ! 



INTERMEDDLING OF THE PRESS 187 

"The Good-natured Man" was performed for ten nights 
in succession ; the third, sixth, and ninth nights were for 
the author's benefit ; the fifth night it was commanded by 
their Majesties ; after this it was played occasionally, but 
rarely, having always pleased more in the closet than on 5 
the stage. 

As to Kelly's comedy, Johnson pronounced it entirely 
devoid of character, and it has long since passed into oblivion. 
Yet it is an instance how an inferior production, by dint of 
puffing and trumpeting, may be kept up for a time on the 10 
surface of popular opinion, or rather of popular talk. What 
had been done for " False Delicacy " on the stage was con- 
tinued by the press. The booksellers vied with the manager 
in launching it upon the town. They announced that the 
first impression of three thousand copies was exhausted 15 
before two o'clock on the day of publication ; four editions, 
amounting to ten thousand copies, were sold in the course 
of the season ; a public breakfast was given to Kelly at the 
Chapter Coffee-House, and, a piece of plate presented to 
him by the publishers. The comparative merits of the two 20 
plays were continually subjects of discussion in green-rooms, 
coffee-houses, and other places where theatrical questions 
were discussed. 

Goldsmith's old enemy, Kenrick, that " viper of the press," 
endeavored on this, as on many other occasions, to detract 25 
from his well-earned fame ; the poet was excessively sensi- 
tive to these attacks, and had not the art and self-command 
to conceal his feelings. 

Some scribblers on the other side insinuated that Kelly 
had seen the manuscript of Goldsmith's play, while in the 30 
hands of Garrick or elsewhere, and had borrowed some of 
the situations and sentiments. Some of the wags of the day 
took a mischievous pleasure in stirring up a feud between 
the two authors. Goldsmith became nettled, though he could 



l88 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

scarcely be deemed jealous of one so far his inferior. He 
spoke disparagingly, though no doubt sincerely, of Kelly's 
play : the latter retorted. Still, when they met one day 
behind the scenes of Covent Garden, Goldsmith, with his 
customary urbanity, congratulated Kelly on his success. 
" If I thought you sincere, Mr. Goldsmith," replied the 
other, abruptly, " I should thank you." Goldsmith was not 
a man to harbor spleen or ill-will, and soon laughed at this 
unworthy rivalship ; but the jealousy and envy awakened in 
Kelly's mind long continued. He is even accused of hav- 
ing given vent to his hostility by anonymous attacks in the 
newspapers, the basest resource of dastardly and malignant 
spirits ; but of this there is no positive proof. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Character of Garrick as brought out by Irving. Is this a just 
historical estimate ? 

2. What does Irving mean by calli»ig Goldsmith's nature mercurial ? 

3. Mention the difficulties and the delays attending the first pres- 
entation of Goldsmith's play, " The Good-natured Man." Compare the 
first performance of this play with the first presentation of " Hernani " 
in Paris. [Talk over the matter with your teacher of French or modern 
languages.] 

4. Who were Kelly and Kenrick ? 

5. Goldsmith's ingenuousness among his friends. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

Burning the Candle at both Ends — Fine Apartments — Fine Furniture — Fine 
Clothes — Fine Acquaintances — Shoemaker's Holiday and Jolly-Pigeon 
Associates — Peter Barlow, Glover, and the Hampstead Hoax — Poor 
Friends among great Acquaintances. 

The profits resulting from " The Good-natured Man" were 
beyond any that Goldsmith had yet derived from his works. 
He netted about four hundred pounds from the theatre, and 
one hundred pounds from his publisher. 

Five hundred pounds ! and all at one miraculous draught ! s 
It appeared to him wealth inexhaustible. It at once opened 
his heart and hand, and led him into all kinds of extrava- 
gance. The first symptom was ten guineas sent to Shuter 
for a box-ticket for his benefit, when " The Good-natured 
Man " was to be performed. The next was an entire change lo 
in his domicil. The shabby lodgings with Jeffs, the butler, 
in which he had been worried by Johnson's scrutiny, were 
now exchanged for chambers more becoming a man of his 
ample fortune. The apartments consisted of three rooms 
on the second floor of No. 2 Brick Court, Middle Temple, 15 
on the right hand ascending the staircase, and overlooked 
the umbrageous walks of the Temple garden. The lease he 
purchased for ;/^4oo, and then went on to furnish his rooms 
with mahogany sofas, card-tables, and bookcases ; with cur- 
tains, mirrors, and Wilton carpets. His awkward little person 20 
was also furnished out in a style befitting his apartment ; for, 
in addition to his suit of " Tyrian bloom, satin grain," we 
find another charged about this time, in the books of Mr. Filby, 
in no less gorgeous terms, being '' lined with silk and fur- 
nished with gold buttons." Thus lodged and thus arrayed, 25 
he invited the visits of his most aristocratic acquaintances, 

189 



190 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

and no longer quailed beneath the courtly eye of Beauclerc. 
He gave dinners to Johnson, Reynolds, Percy, Bickerstaff, 
and other friends of note ; and supper-parties to young folks 
of both sexes. These last were preceded by round games 

5 of cards, at which there was more laughter than skill, and 
in which the sport was to cheat each other ; or by romping 
games of forfeits and blind-man's-buff, at which he enacted 
the lord of misrule. Blackstone, whose chambers were imme- 
diately below, and who was studiously occupied on his " Com- 

lo mentaries," used to complain of the racket made overhead 
by his revelling neighbor. 

Sometimes Goldsmith would make up a rural party, com- 
posed of four or five of his "jolly-pigeon " friends, to enjoy 
what he humorously called a " shoemaker's holiday." These 

15 would assemble at his chambers in the morning, to partake 
of a plentiful and rather expensive breakfast ; the remains 
of which, with his customary benevolence, he generally gave 
to some poor woman in attendance. The repast ended, the 
party would set out on foot, in high spirits, making extensive 

20 rambles by foot-paths and green lanes to Blackheath, Wands- 
worth, Chelsea, Hampton Court, Highgate, or some other 
pleasant resort, within a few miles of London. A simple but 
gay and heartily relished dinner, at a country inn, crowned 
the excursion. In the evening they strolled back to town, 

25 all the better in health and spirits for a day spent in rural 
and social enjoyment. Occasionally, when extravagantly 
inclined, they adjourned from dinner to drink tea at the 
White Conduit House ; and, now and then, concluded their 
festive day by supping at the Grecian or Temple Exchange 

30 Coffee-Houses, or at the Globe Tavern, in Fleet Street. The 
whole expenses of the day never exceeded a crown, and were 
oftener from three and sixpence to four shillings; for the 
best part of their entertainment, sweet air and rural scenes, 
excellent exercise and joyous conversation, cost nothing. 



SHOEMAKER'S HOLIDAY 191 

One of Goldsmith's humble companions, on these excur- 
sions, was his occasional amanuensis, Peter Barlow, whose 
quaint peculiarities afforded much amusement to the com- 
pany. Peter was poor but punctilious, squaring his expenses 
according to his means. He always wore the same garb ; 5 
fixed his regular expenditure for dinner at a trifling sum, 
which, if left to himself, he never exceeded, but which he 
always insisted on paying. His oddities always made him 
a welcome companion on the " shoemaker's holidays." The 
dinner, on these occasions, generally exceeded considerably 10 
his tariff; he put down, however, no more than his regular 
sum, and Goldsmith made up the difference. 

Another of these hangers-on, for whom, on such occa- 
sions, he was content to " pay the shot," was his countryman 
Glover, of whom mention has already been made as one of 15 
the wags and sponges of the Globe and Devil taverns, and 
a prime mimic at the Wednesday Club. 

This vagabond genius has bequeathed us a whimsical story 
of one of his practical jokes upon Goldsmith, in the course 
of a rural excursion in the vicinity of London. They had 20 
dined at an inn on Hampstead Heights, and were descending 
the hill, when, in passing a cottage, they saw through the 
open window a party at tea. Goldsmith, who was fatigued, 
cast a wistful glance at the cheerful tea-table. " How I ^ 
should like to be of that party," exclaimed he. " Nothing 25 - 
more easy," replied Glover ; " allow me to introduce you." 
So saying, he entered the house with an air of the most per- 
fect familiarity, though an utter stranger, and was followed 
by the unsuspecting Goldsmith, who supposed, of course, 
that he was a friend of the family. The owner of the house 30 
rose on the entrance of the strangers. The undaunted Glover 
shook hands with him in the most cordial manner possible, 
fixed his eye on one of the company who had a peculiarly good- 
natured physiognomy, muttered something like a recognition, 



192 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH 



and forthwith launched into an amusing story, invented at 
the moment, of something which he pretended had occurred 
upon the road. The host supposed the new-comers were 
friends of his guests ; the guests, that they were friends of 

5 the host. Glover did not give them time to find out the 
truth. He followed one droll story with another; brought 
his powers of mimicry into play, and kept the company in a 
roar. Tea was offered and accepted; an hour went off in 
the most sociable manner imaginable, at the end of which 

10 Glover bowed himself and his companion out of the house 
with many facetious last words, leaving the host and his 
company to compare notes, and to find out what an impu- 
dent intrusion they had experienced. 

Nothing could exceed the dismay and vexation of Gold- 

15 smith when triumphantly told by Glover that it was all a 
hoax, and that he did not know a single soul in the house. - 
His first impulse was to return instantly and vindicate him- 
self from all participation in the jest ; but a few words from 
his free-and-easy companion dissuaded him. " Doctor," said 

20 he, coolly, " we are unknown ; you quite as much as I ; if 
you return and tell the story, it will be in the newspapers 
to-morrow ; nay, upon recollection, I remember in one of 
their offices the face of that squinting fellow who sat in the 
corner as if he was treasuring up my stories for future use, 

25 and we shall be sure of being exposed ; let us therefore keep 
our own counsel." 

This story was frequently afterward told by Glover, with 
rich dramatic effect, repeating and exaggerating the conver- 
sation, and mimicking, in ludicrous style, the embarrassment, 

30 surprise, and subsequent indignation of Goldsmith. 

It is a trite saying that a wheel cannot run in two ruts ; 
nor a man keep two opposite sets of intimates. Goldsmith 
sometimes found his old friends of the "jolly-pigeon" order 
turning up rather awkwardly when he was in company with 



THE UNWELCOME VISITOR 193 

his new aristocratic acquaintances. He gave a whimsical 
account of the sudden apparition of one of them at his gay- 
apartments in the Temple, who may have been a welcome 
visitor at his squalid quarters in Green Arbor Court. " How 
do you think he served me .'' " said he to a friend. " Why, 5 
sir, after staying away two years, he came one evening into 
my chambers, half drunk, as I was taking a glass of wine 
with Topham Beauclerc and General Oglethorpe ; and sitting 
himself down, with most intolerable assurance inquired after 
my health and literary pursuits, as if we were upon the most 10 
friendly footing. I was at first so much ashamed of ever 
having known such a fellow, that I stifled my resentment, 
and drew him into a conversation on such topics as I knew 
he could talk upon ; in which, to do him justice, he acquitted 
himself very reputably ; when all of a sudden, as if recollect- 15 
ing something, he pulled two papers out of his pocket, which 
he presented to me with great ceremony, saying, ' Here, my 
dear friend, is a quarter of a pound of tea, and a half pound 
of sugar, I have brought you ; for though it is not in my 
power at present to pay you the two guineas you so gener- 20 
ously lent me, you, nor any man else, shall ever have it to 
say that I want gratitude.' This," added Goldsmith, "was 
too much. I could no longer keep in my feelings, but 
desired him to turn out of my chambers directly ; which he 
very coolly did, taking up his tea and sugar; and I never 25 
saw him afterwards." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Using the details given in Irving and filling out where necessary 
from your imagination, write an account of a "shoemaker's holiday" 
on some specific date. [Let Goldsmith be the central personage in the 
rural excursion about which you write.] 

2. Compare one of the scenes in '* The Vicar of Wakefield " with the 
Glover jest. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

Reduced again to Book-building — Rural Retreat at Shoemaker's Paradise — 
Death of Henry Goldsmith; Tributes to his Memory in the "Deserted 
Village." 

The heedless expenses of Goldsmith, as may easily be 
supposed, soon brought him to the end of his " prize-money," 
but when his purse gave out he drew upon futurity, obtain- 
ing advances from his booksellers and loans from his friends 

5 in the confident hope of soon turning up another trump. 
The debts which he thus thoughtlessly incurred in conse- 
quence of a transient gleam of prosperity embarrassed him 
for the rest of his life; so that the success of the "Good- 
natured Man " may be said to have been ruinous to him. 

10 He was soon obliged to resume his old craft of book- 
building, and set about his " History of Rome," undertaken 
for Davies. 

It was his custom, as we have shown, during the sum- 
mer-time, when pressed by a multiplicity of literary jobs, or 

15 urged to the accomplishment of some particular task, to take 
country lodgings a few miles from town, generally on the 
Harrow or Edgeware roads, and bury himself there for 
weeks and months together. Sometimes he would remain 
closely occupied in his room, at other times he would stroll 

20 out along the lanes and hedgerows, and taking out paper 
and pencil, note down thoughts to be expanded and con- 
nected at home. His summer retreat for the present year, 
1768, was a little cottage with a garden, pleasantly situated 
about eight miles from town on the Edgeware road. He 

25 took it in conjunction with a Mr. Edmund Botts, a barris- 
ter and man of letters, his neighbor in the Temple, having 

194 



SHOEMAKER'S PARADISE 



195 



rooms immediately opposite him on the same floor. They 
had become cordial intimates, and Botts was one of those 
with whom Goldsmith now and then took the friendly but 
pernicious liberty of borrowing. 

The cottage which they had hired belonged to a rich shoe- 5 
maker of Piccadilly, who had embellished his little domain 
of half an acre with statues, and jets, and all the decorations 
of landscape gardening; in consequence of which Goldsmith 
gave it the name of The Shoemaker's Paradise. As his 
fellow-occupant, Mr. Botts, drove a gig, he sometimes, in an 10 
interval of literary labor, accompanied him to town, partook 
of a social dinner there, and returned with him in the even- 
ing. On one occasion, when they had probably lingered 
too long at the table, they came near breaking their necks 
on their way homeward by driving against a post on the 15 
side-walk, while Botts was proving by the force of legal 
eloquence that they were in the very middle of the broad / 
Edgeware road. 

In the course of this summer. Goldsmith's career of gayety 
was suddenly brought to a pause by intelligence of the death 20 
of his brother Henry, then but forty-five years of age. He 
had led a quiet and blameless life amid the scenes of his 
youth, fulfilling the duties of village pastor with unaffected 
piety; conducting the school at Lissoy with a degree of 
industry and ability that gave it celebrity, and acquitting 25 
himself in all the duties of life with undeviating rectitude 
and the mildest benevolence. How truly Goldsmith loved 
and venerated him is evident in all his letters and through- 
out his works ; in which his brother continually forms his 
model for an exemplification of all the most endearing of the 30 
Christian virtues ; yet his affection at his death was embit- 
tered by the fear that he died with some doubt upon his 
mind of the warmth of his affection. Goldsmith had been 
urged by his friends in Ireland, since his elevation in the 



196 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

world, to use his influence with the great, which they 
supposed to be all-powerful, in favor of Henry, to obtain 
for him church-preferment. He did exert himself as far 
as his diffident nature would permit, but without success ; 
5 we have seen that, in the case of the Earl of Northumber- 
land, when, as Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, that nobleman 
proffered him his patronage, he asked nothing for himself, 
but only spoke on behalf of his brother. Still some of his 
friends, ignorant of what he had done and of how little 

10 he was able to do, accused him of negligence. It is not 
likely, however, that his amiable and estimable brother joined 
in the accusation. 

To the tender and melancholy recollections of his early 
days awakened by the death of this loved companion of his 

15 childhood, we may attribute some of the most heartfelt pas- 
sages in his " Deserted Village." Much of that poem we 
are told was composed this summer, in the course of solitary 
strolls about the green lanes and beautifully rural scenes 
of the neighborhood ; and thus much of the softness and 

20 sweetness of English landscape became blended with the 
ruder features of Lissoy. It was in these lonely and sub- 
dued moments, when tender regret was half mingled with 
self-upbraiding, that he poured forth that homage of the 
heart rendered as it were at the grave of his brother. The 

25 picture of the village pastor in this poem, which we have 
already hinted was taken in part from the character of his 
father, embodied likewise the recollections of his brother 
Henry; for the natures of the father and son seem to have 
been identical. In the following lines, however. Goldsmith 

30 evidently contrasted the quiet settled life of his brother, 
passed at home in the benevolent exercise of the Christian 
duties, with his own restless vagrant career : — 

" Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 
Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place." 



HENRY GOLDSMITH 197 

To us the whole character seems traced as it were in an 
expiatory spirit; as if, conscious of his own wandering rest- 
lessness, he sought to humble himself at the shrine of excel- 
lence which he had not been able to practise : — 

" At church with meek and unaffected grace, 5 

His looks adorn'd the venerable place; 
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, 
And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. 
The service past, around the pious man. 

With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 10 

Even children follow'd, with endearing wile. 
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile : 
His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd, 
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distress'd; 
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, 15 

But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 



And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 

To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, 

He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, 

Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way^ 20 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Irving again calls Goldsmith heedless. Why is the adjective a 
good characterization ? 

2. Henry Goldsmith's life and character. How much older was 
Henry than Oliver? In what points of character did they differ? 



CHAPTER XXV 

Dinner at Bickerstaff's — Hiffernan and his Impecuniosity — Kenrick's Epi- 
gram — Johnson's Consolation — Goldsmith's Toilet — The Bloom-colored 
Coat — New Acquaintances; The Hornecks — A Touch of Poetry and 
Passion — The Jessamy Bride. 

In October, Goldsmith returned to town and resumed his 
usual haunts. We hear of him at a dinner given by his coun- 
tryman, Isaac Bickerstaff, author of " Love in a Village," 
" Lionel and Clarissa," and other successful dramatic pieces. 
5 The dinner was to be followed by the reading by Bickerstaff 
of a new play. Among the guests was one Paul Hiffernan, 
likewise an Irishman ; somewhat idle and intemperate ; who 
lived nobody knew how nor where, sponging wherever he 
had a chance, and often of course upon Goldsmith, who was 

10 ever the vagabond's friend, or rather victim. Hiffernan was 
something of a physician, and elevated the emptiness of his 
purse into the dignity of a disease, which he termed impecii- 
niosify^ and against which he claimed a right to call for relief 
from the healthier purses of his friends. He was a scribbler 

15 for the newspapers, and latterly a dramatic critic, which had 
probably gained him an invitation to the dinner and read- 
ing. The wine and wassail, however, befogged his senses. 
Scarce had the author got into the second act of his play, 
when Hiffernan began to nod, and at length snored outright. 

20 Bickerstaff was embarrassed, but continued to read in a more 
elevated tone. The louder he read, the louder Hiffernan 
snored; until the author came to a pause. "Never mind 
the brute, Bick, but go on," cried Goldsmith. " He would 
have served Homer just so if he were here and reading his 

25 own works." 

198 



GOLDSMITH'S TOILET 199 

Kenrick, Goldsmith's old enemy, travestied this anecdote 
in the following lines, pretending that the poet had com- 
pared his countryman Bickerstaff to Homer. 

" What are your Bretons, Romans, Grecians, 

Compared with thorough-bred Milesians ! 5 

Step into Griffin's shop, he'll tell ye 

Of Goldsmith, Bickerstaff, and Kelly . . . 

And, take one Irish evidence for t' other, 

Ev'n Homer's self is but their foster-brother." 

Johnson was a rough consoler to a man when wincing 10 
under an attack of this kind. " Never mind, sir," said he to 
Goldsmith, when he saw that he felt the sting. " A man 
whose business it is to be talked of is much helped by being 
attacked. Fame, sir, is a shuttlecock; if it be struck only 
at one end of the room, it will soon fall to the ground; to 15 
keep it up, it must be struck at both ends." 

Bickerstaff, at the time of which we are speaking, was in 
high vogue, the associate of the first wits of the day; a few 
years afterwards he was obliged to fly the country to escape 
the punishment of an infamous crime. Johnson expressed 20 
great astonishment at hearing the offence for which he had 
fled. "Why, sir?" said Thrale, "he had long been a sus- 
pected man." Perhaps there was a knowing look on the 
part of the eminent brewer, which provoked a somewhat 
contemptuous reply. " By those who look close to the 25 
ground," said Johnson, " dirt will sometimes be seen ; I hope 
I see things from a greater distance." 

We have already noticed the improvement, or rather the 
increased expense, of Goldsmith's wardrobe since his eleva- 
tion into polite society. " He was fond," says one of his 30 
contemporaries, " of exhibiting his muscular little person in 
the gayest apparel of the day, to which was added a bag-wig 
and sword." Thus arrayed, he used to figure about in the 



200 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

sunshine in the Temple Gardens, much to his own satisfaction, 
but to the amusement of his acquaintances. 

Boswell, in his memoirs, has rendered one of his suits 
forever famous. That worthy, on the i6th of October in 
5 this same year, gave a dinner to Johnson, Goldsmith, Reyn- 
olds, Garrick, Murphy, Bickerstaff, and Davies. Goldsmith 
was generally apt to bustle in at the last moment, when 
the guests were taking their seats at table ; but on this 
occasion he was unusually early. While waiting for some 

10 lingerers to arrive, " he strutted about," says Boswell, " brag- 
ging of his dress, and I believe was seriously vain of it, 
for his mind was undoubtedly prone to such impressions. 
'Come, come,' said Garrick, 'talk no more of that. You 
are perhaps the worst — eh, eh.?' Goldsmith was eagerly 

15 attempting to interrupt him, when Garrick went on, laughing 
ironically. ' Nay, you will always look like a gentleman ; 
but I am talking of your being well or ill dressed.'' ' Well, 
let me tell you,' said Goldsmith, ' when the tailor brought 
home my bloom-colored coat, he said, " Sir, I have a favor to 

20 beg of you ; when anybody asks you who made your clothes, 
be pleased to mention John Filby, at the Harrow, in Water 
Lane."' 'Why, sir,' cried Johnson, 'that was because he 
knew the strange color would attract crowds to gaze at it, 
and thus they might hear of him, and see how well he could 

25 make a coat of so absurd a color.' " 

But though Goldsmith might permit this raillery on the 
part of his friends, he was quick to resent any personalities 
of the kind from strangers. As he was one day walking the 
Strand in grand array with bag-wig and sword, he excited 

30 the merriment of two coxcombs, one of whom called to the 
other to " look at that fly with a long pin stuck through it." 
Stung to the quick, Goldsmith's first retort was to caution 
the passers-by to be on their guard against " that brace of 
disguised pickpockets," — his next was to step into the 



NEW ACQUAINTANCES 20I 

middle of the street, where there was room for action, half- 
draw his sword, and beckon the joker, who was armed in 
like manner, to follow him. This was literally a war of wit 
which the other had not anticipated. He had no inclination 
to push the joke to such an extreme, but abandoning the 5 
ground, sneaked off with his brother wag amid the hootings 
of the spectators. 

This proneness to finery in dress, however, which Boswell 
and others of Goldsmith's contemporaries, who did not under- 
stand the secret plies of his character, attributed to vanity, 10 
arose, we are convinced, from a widely different motive. 
It was from a painful idea of his own personal defects, 
which had been cruelly stamped upon his mind in his boy- 
hood, by the sneers and jeers of his playmates, and had been 
ground deeper into it by rude speeches made to him in 15 
every step of his struggling career, until it had become a 
constant cause of awkwardness and embarrassment. This 
he had experienced the more sensibly since his reputation 
had elevated him into polite society ; and he was constantly 
endeavoring by the aid of dress to acquire that personal 20 
acceptability^ if we may use the phrase, which nature had 
denied him. If ever he betrayed a little self-complacency 
on first turning out in a new suit, it may, perhaps, have 
been because he felt as if he had achieved a triumph over 
his ugliness. 25 

There were circumstances too, about the time of which 
we are treating, which may have rendered Goldsmith more 
than usually attentive to his personal appearance. He had 
recently made the acquaintance of a most agreeable family 
from Devonshire, which he met at the house of his friend, 30 
Sir Joshua Reynolds. It consisted of Mrs. Horneck, widow 
of Captain Kane Horneck ; two daughters, seventeen and 
nineteen years of age; and an only son, Charles, the Captain 
in Lace, as his sisters playfully and somewhat proudly called 



202 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

him, he having lately entered the Guards. The daughters 
are described as uncommonly beautiful, intelligent, sprightly, 
and agreeable. Catharine, the eldest, went among her friends 
by the name of Little Comedy^ indicative, very probably, of 
5 her disposition. She was engaged to William Henry Bun- 
bury, second son of a Suffolk baronet. The hand and heart 
of her sister Mary were yet unengaged, although she bore 
the by-name among her friends of \h^ JessatJiy Bride. This 
family was prepared, by their intimacy with Reynolds and 

10 his sister, to appreciate the merits of Goldsmith. The poet 
had always been a chosen friend of the eminent painter; 
and Miss Reynolds, as we have shown, ever since she had 
heard his poem of " The Traveller " read aloud, had ceased 
to consider him ugly. The Hornecks were equally capable of 

15 forgetting his person in admiring his w^orks. On becoming 
acquainted with him, too, they were delighted with his guile- 
less simplicity, his buoyant good-nature, and his innate 
benevolence ; and an enduring intimacy soon sprang up 
between them. For once poor Goldsmith had met with 

20 polite society with which he was perfectly at home, and by 
which he was fully appreciated ; for once he had met with 
lovely women, to whom his ugly features were not repulsive. 
A proof of the easy and playful terms in which he was with 
them, remains in a whimsical epistle in verse, of which the 

25 following was the occasion. A dinner was to be given to 
their family by a Dr. Baker, a friend of their mother's, at 
which Reynolds and Angelica Kauffman were to be present. 
The young ladies were eager to have Goldsmith of the party, 
and their intimacy with Dr. Baker allowing them to take 

30 the liberty, they wrote a joint invitation to the poet at the 
last moment. It came too late, and drew from him the 
following reply ; on the top of which was scrawled, " This is 
a poem ! This is a copy of verses ! " 



A RHYMING EPISTLE 203 



" Your mandate I got, 
You may all go to pot ; 
Had your senses been right, 
You 'd have sent before night 
So tell Horneck and Nesbitt, 
And Baker and his bit, 
And Kauffman beside, 
And \\iQ Jessaniy Bride, 
With the rest of the crew, 
The Reynoldses too, 



Little Comedy^ s face, 
And the Captain in Lace, 
Tell each other to rue 
Your Devonshire crew, 
For sending so late 
To one of my state. 
But 't is Reynolds's way 
From wisdom to stray, 
And Angelica's whim 
To befrolic like him ; 



But alas ! your good worships, how could they be wiser. 
When both have been spoil'd in to-day's ' Advertiser ' ? " 1 

It has been intimated that the intimacy of poor Goldsmith 
with the Miss Hornecks, which began in so sprightly a vein, 
gradually assumed something of a more tender nature, and 15 
that he was not insensible to the fascinations of the younger 
sister. This may account for some of the phenomena which 
about this time appeared in his wardrobe and toilet. Dur- 
ing the first year of his acquaintance with these lovely girls, 
the tell-tale book of his tailor, Mr. William Filby, displays 20 
entries of four or five full suits, besides separate articles of 
dress. Among the items we find a green half-trimmed frock 
and breeches, lined with silk; a queen's-blue dress suit; a 
half-dress suit of ratteen, lined with satin ; a pair of silk 
stocking-breeches, and another pair of a bloom-color. Alas ! 25 

1 The following lines had appeared in that day's " Advertiser," on the portrait 
of Sir Joshua by Angelica Kauffman : — 

" While fair Angelica, with matchless grace, 
Paints Conway's burly form and Stanhope's face ; 
Our hearts to beauty willing homage pay, 
We praise, admire, and gaze our souls away. 
But when the likeness she hath done for thee, 
O Reynolds ! with astonishment we see. 
Forced to submit, with all our pride we own, 
Such strength, such harmony excelled by none, 
And thou art rivalled by thyself alone." 



204 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

poor Goldsmith ! how much of this silken finery was dictated, 
not by vanity, but humble consciousness of thy defects ; 
how much of it was to atone for the uncouthness of thy 
person, and to win favor in the eyes of the Jessamy Bride ! 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Goldsmith's fondness for odd clothes. 

2. The story of Goldsmith and the Jessamy Bride. What recent 
writer of fiction has made this love story the theme of a novel ? 

3. Irving as an apologist for Goldsmith's shortcomings. [Compare 
question 4, Chapter XVIIL] 

4. Give an account of Boswell's dinner to his friends on Octo- 
ber 16, 1768. 



CHAPTER XXVI 

Goldsmith in the Temple — Judge Day and Grattan — Labor and Dissipation 
— Publication of the Roman History; Opinions of it — "History of Ani- 
mated Nature" — Temple Rookery — Anecdotes of a Spider. 

In the winter of 1768-69 Goldsmith occupied himself at 
his quarters in the Temple, slowly "building up " his Roman 
History. We have pleasant views of him in this learned and 
half-cloistered retreat of wits and lawyers and legal students, 
in the reminiscences of Judge Day of the Irish Bench, who 5 
in his advanced age delighted to recall the days of his youth, 
when he was a templar, and to speak of the kindness with 
which he and his fellow-student, Grattan, were treated by 
the poet. "I was just arrived from college," said he, "full 
freighted with academic gleanings, and our author did not 10 
disdain to receive from me some opinions and hints towards 
his Greek and Roman histories. Being then a young man, 
I felt much flattered by the notice of so celebrated a person. 
He took great delight in the conversation of Grattan, whose 
brilliancy in the morning of life furnished full earnest of the 15 
unrivalled splendor which awaited his meridian ; and finding 
us dwelling together in Essex Court, near himself, where he 
frequently visited my immortal friend, his warm heart became 
naturally prepossessed towards the associate of one whom 
he so much admired." 20 

The Judge goes on, in his reminiscences, to give a picture 
of Goldsmith's social habits, similar in style to those already 
furnished. He frequented much the Grecian Coffee-House, 
then the favorite resort of the Irish and Lancashire Tem- 
plars. He delighted in collecting his friends around him 25 
at evening parties at his chambers, where he entertained 

205 



206 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

them with a cordial and unostentatious hospitality. " Occa- 
sionally," adds the Judge, "he amused them with his flute, 
or with whist, neither of which he played well, particularly 
the latter, but, on losing his money, he never lost his temper. 
5 In a run of bad luck and worse play, he would fling his cards 
upon the floor and exclaim, ^Bye/ore George, I ought forever 
to renounce thee, fickle, faithless fortune.' " 

The Judge was aware, at the time, that all the learned 
labor of poor Goldsmith upon his Roman History was mere 

10 hack-work to recruit his exhausted finances. " His purse 
replenished," adds he, "by labors of this kind, the season 
of relaxation and pleasure took its turn, in attending the 
theatres, Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and other scenes of gayety 
and amusement. Whenever his funds were dissipated, — 

15 and they fled more rapidly from being the dupe of many 
artful persons, male and female, who practised upon his 
benevolence, — he returned to his literary labors, and shut 
himself up from society to provide fresh matter for his book- 
seller, and fresh supplies for himself." 

20 How completely had the young student discerned the char- 
acteristics of poor, genial, generous, drudging, holiday-loving 
Goldsmith ; toiling, that he might play ; earning his bread by 
the sweat of his brains, and then throwing it out of the window. 
The Roman History was published in the middle of May, 

25 in two volumes of five hundred pages each. It was brought 
out without parade or pretension, and was announced as for 
the use of schools and colleges ; but, though a work written 
for bread, not fame, such is its ease, perspicuity, good sense, 
and the delightful simplicity of its style, that it was well 

30 received by the critics, commanded a prompt and exten- 
sive sale, and has ever since remained in the hands of young 
and old. 

Johnson, who, as we have before remarked, rarely praised 
or dispraised things by halves, broke forth in a warm eulogy 



ROMAN HISTORY 



207 



of the -author and the work, in a conversation with Boswell, 
to the great astonishment of the latter. " Whether we take 
Goldsmith," said he, "as a poet, as a comic writer, or as 
an historian, he stands in the first class." Boswell. — "An 
historian ! My dear sir, you surely will not rank his compila- 5 
tion of the Roman History with the works of other historians 
of this age." Johnson. — "Why, who are before him?" 
Boswell. — " Hume — Robertson — Lord Lyttelton." John- 
son (his antipathy against the Scotch beginning to rise). — 
" I have not read Hume ; but doubtless Goldsmith's History 10 
is better than the verbiage of Robertson, or the foppery of 
Dalrymple." Boswell. — " Will you not admit the superiority 
of Robertson, in whose history we find such penetration, such 
painting ? " Johnson. — " Sir, you must consider how that 
penetration and that painting are employed. It is not his- 15 
tory, it is imagination. He who describes what he never saw, 
draws from fancy. Robertson paints minds as Sir Joshua 
paints faces, in a history-piece ; he imagines an heroic coun- 
tenance. You must look upon Robertson's work as romance, 
and try it by that standard. History it is not. Besides, sir, 20 
it is the great excellence of a writer to put into his book as 
much as his book will hold. Goldsmith has done this in his 
History. Now Robertson might have put twice as much in 
his book. Robertson is like a man who has packed gold in 
wool ; the wool takes up more room than the gold. No, sir, 25 
I always thought Robertson would be crushed with his own 
weight — would be buried under his own ornaments. Gold- 
smith tells you shortly all you want to know ; Robertson 
detains you a great deal too long. No man will read Robert- 
son's cumbrous detail a second time ; but Goldsmith's plain 30 
narrative will please again and again. I would say to Robert- 
son what an old tutor of a college said to one of his pupils, 
' Read over your compositions, and whenever you meet with 
a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out ! ' 



208 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Goldsmith's abridgment is better than that of Lucius Florus 
or Eutropius ; and I will venture to say, that, if you compare 
him with Vertot in the same places of the Roman History, 
you will find that he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the art of 
5 compiling, and of saying everything he has to say in a pleas- 
ing manner. He is now writing a Natural History, and will 
make it as entertaining as a Persian tale." 

The Natural History to which Johnson alluded was the 
" History of Animated Nature," which Goldsmith commenced 

lo in 1769, under an engagement with Griffin, the bookseller, 
to complete it as soon as possible in eight volumes, each 
containing upwards of four hundred pages, in pica ; a hun- 
dred guineas to be paid to the author on the delivery of each 
volume in manuscript. 

15 He was induced to engage in this work by the urgent 
solicitations of the booksellers, who had been struck by the 
sterling merits and captivating style of an introduction which 
he wrote to Brookes's " Natural History." It was Gold- 
smith's intention originally to make a translation of Pliny, 

20 with a popular commentary ; but the appearance of Buffon's 
work induced him to change his plan, and make use of that 
author for a guide and model. 

Cumberland, speaking of this work, observes : " Distress 
drove Goldsmith upon undertakings neither congenial with 

25 his studies nor worthy of his talents. I remember him when, 
in his chambers in the Temple, he showed me the beginning 
of his ' Animated Nature ' ; it was with a sigh, such as genius 
draws when hard necessity diverts it from its bent to drudge 
for bread, and talk of birds, and beasts, and creeping things, 

30 which Pidock's showman would have done as well. Poor 
fellow, he hardly knows an ass from a mule, nor a turkey 
from a goose, but when he sees it on the table." 

Others of Goldsmith's friends entertained similar ideas 
with respect to his fitness for the task, and they were apt 



"HISTORY OF ANIMATED NATURE" 209 

now and then to banter him on the subject, and to amuse 
themselves with his easy credulity. The custom among the 
natives of Otaheite of eating dogs being once mentioned in 
company, Goldsmith observed that a similar custom pre- 
vailed in China ; that a dog-butcher is as common there as 5 
any other butcher ; and that, when he walks abroad, all the 
dogs fall on him. Johnson. — " That is not owing to his 
killing dogs ; sir, I remember a butcher at Litchfield, whom 
a dog that was in the house where I lived always attacked. 
It is the smell of carnage which provokes this, let the ani- 10 
mals he has killed be what they may." Goldsmith. — "Yes, 
there is a general abhorrence in animals at the signs of 
massacre. If you put a tub full of blood into a stable, the 
horses are likely to go mad." Johnson. — "I doubt that." 
Goldsmith. — "Nay, sir, it is a fact well authenticated." 15 
Thrale. — " You had better prove it before you put it into 
your book on Natural History. You may do it in my stable 
if you will." Johnson. — "Nay, sir, I would not have him 
prove it. If he is content to take his information from others, 
he may get through his book with little trouble, and without 20 
much endangering his reputation. But if he makes experi- 
ments for so comprehensive a book as his, there would be 
no end to them ; his erroneous assertions would fall then 
upon himself ; and he might be blamed for not having made 
experiments as to every particular." 25 

Johnson's original prediction, however, with respect to 
this work, that Goldsmith would make it as entertaining as 
a Persian tale, was verified ; and though much of it was 
borrowed from Buffon, and but little of it written from his 
own observation, — though it was by no means profound, 30 
and was chargeable with many errors, yet the charms of his 
style and the play of his happy disposition throughout have 
continued to render it far more popular and readable than 
many works on the subject of much greater scope and 



2IO OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

science. Cumberland was mistaken, however, in his notion 
of Goldsmith's ignorance and lack of observation as to 
the characteristics of animals. On the contrary, he was a 
minute and shrewd observer of them ; but he observed 
5 them with the eye of a poet and moralist as well as a 
naturalist. We quote two passages from his works illus- 
trative of this fact, and we do so the more readily because 
they are in a manner a part of his history, and give us 
another peep into his private life in the Temple, — of his 

lo mode of occupying himself in his lonely and apparently idle 
moments, and of another class of acquaintances which he 
made there. 

Speaking in his ''Animated Nature" of the habitudes 
of Rooks, "I have often amused myself," says he, "with 

15 observing their plans of policy from my window in the 
Temple, that looks upon a grove, where they have made a 
colony in the midst of a city. At the commencement of 
spring the rookery, which during the continuance of winter 
seemed to have been deserted, or only guarded by about 

20 live or six, like old soldiers in a garrison, now begins to be 
once more frequented, and in a short time all the bustle and 
hurry of business will be fairly commenced." 

The other passage, which we take the liberty to quote at 
some length, is from an admirable paper in the " Bee," and 

25 relates to the House-Spider. 

" Of all the solitary insects I have ever remarked, the 
spider is the most sagacious, and its motions to me, who 
have attentively considered them, seem almost to exceed 
behef. ... I perceived, about four years ago, a large 

30 spider in one corner of my room making its web ; and, 
though the maid frequently levelled her broom against the 
labors of the little animal, I had the good fortune then to 
prevent its destruction, and I may say it more than paid me 
by the entertainment it afforded. 



ANECDOTES OF A SPIDER 211 

" In three days the web was, with incredible diligence, 
completed ; nor could I avoid thinking that the insect seemed 
to exult in its new abode. It frequently traversed it round, 
examined the strength of every part of it, retired into its 
hole, and came out very frequently. The first enemy, how- 5 
ever, it had to encounter was another and a much larger 
spider, which, having no web of its own, and having proba- 
bly exhausted all its stock in former labors of this kind, 
came to invade the property of its neighbor. Soon, then, a 
terrible encounter ensued, in which the invader seemed to 10 
have the victory, and the laborious spider was obliged to 
take refuge in its hole. Upon this I perceived the victor 
using every art to draw the enemy from its stronghold. He 
seemed to go off, but quickly returned ; and when he found 
all arts in vain, began to demolish the new web without 15 
mercy. This brought on another battle, and, contrary to my 
expectations, the laborious spider became conqueror, and 
fairly killed his antagonist. 

" Now, then, in peaceable possession of what was justly 
its own, it waited three days with the utmost impatience, 20 
repairing the breaches of its web, and taking no sustenance 
that I could perceive. At last, however, a large blue fly fell 
into the snare, and struggled hard to get loose. The spider 
gave it leave to entangle itself as much as possible, but it 
seemed to be too strong for the cobweb. I must own I was 25 
greatly surprised when I saw the spider immediately sally 
out, and in less than a minute weave a new net round its 
captive, by which the motion of its wings was stopped ; and, 
when it was fairly hampered in this manner, it was seized 
and dragged into the hole. 30 

" In this manner it lived, in a precarious state ; and 
Nature seemed to have fitted it for such a life, for upon a 
single fly it subsisted for more than a week. I once put 
a wasp into the net ; but when the spider came out in order 



212 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

to seize it as usual, upon perceiving what kind of an enemy 
it had to deal with, it instantly broke all the bands that held 
it fast, and contributed all that lay in its power to disengage 
so formidable an antagonist. When the wasp was set at 
5 liberty, I expected the spider would have set about repairing 
the breaches that were made in its net ; but those, it seems, 
were irreparable ; wherefore the cobweb was now entirely 
forsaken, and a new one begun, which was completed in the 
usual time. 

10 " I had now a mind to try how many cobwebs a single 
spider could furnish ; wherefore I destroyed this, and the 
insect set about another. When I destroyed the other also, 
its whole stock seemed entirely exhausted, and it could spin 
no more. The arts it made use of to support itself, now 

15 deprived of its great means of subsistence, were indeed sur- 
prising. I have seen it roll up its legs like a ball, and lie 
motionless for hours together, but cautiously watching all 
the time ; when a fly happened to approach sufficiently near, 
it would dart out all at once, and often seize its prey. 

20 " Of this life, however, it soon began to grow weary, and 
resolved to invade the possession of some other spider, since 
it could not make a web of its own. It formed an attack 
upon a neighboring fortification with great vigor, and at 
first was as vigorously repulsed. Not daunted, however, 

25 with one defeat, in this manner it continued to lay siege to 
another's web for three days, and at length, having killed 
the defendant, actually took possession. When smaller flies 
happen to fall into the snare, the spider does not sally out 
at once, but very patiently waits till it is sure of them ; for, 

30 upon his immediately approaching, the terror of his appear- 
ance might give the captive strength sufficient to get loose ; 
the manner, then, is to wait patiently, till, by ineffectual and 
impotent struggles, the captive has wasted all its strength, 
and then he becomes a certain and easy conquest. 



ANECDOTES OF A SPIDER 213 

*' The insect I am now describing lived three years ; 
every year it changed its skin and got a new set of legs. 
I have sometimes plucked off a leg, which grew again in 
two or three days. At first it dreaded my approach to its 
web, but at last it became so familiar as to take a fly out 
of my hand ; and, upon my touching any part of the web, 
would immediately leave its hole, prepared either for a 
defence or an attack." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. What was a Templar in the time of Goldsmith? In the time of 
Richard the Lion-Hearted ? Is the term used now in the United 
States ? 

2. How many adjectives can be applied to Goldsmith in describing 
his character ? 

3. Was the tutor's advice to one of his pupils sound ? 

4. By observation verify Goldsmith's remarks about the spider. 
[Find out from your science teacher whether Goldsmith's " History of 
Animated Nature " is scientifically accurate.] 

5. Write a short essay on Vauxhall. 



CHAPTER XXVII 

Honors at the Royal Academy — Letter to his Brother Maurice — Family For- 
tunes — Jane Contarine and the Miniature — Portraits and Engravings 
— School Associations — Johnson and Goldsmith in Westminster Abbey. 

The latter part of the year 1768 had been made memo- 
rable in the world of taste by the institution of the Royal 
Academy of Arts, under the patronage of the King, and the 
direction of forty of the most distinguished artists. Reyn- 

5 olds, who had been mainly instrumental in founding it, 
had been unanimously elected president, and had thereupon 
received the honor of knighthood.-^ Johnson was so de- 
lighted with his friend's elevation, that he broke through a 
rule of total abstinence with respect to wine, which he had 

10 maintained for several years, and drank bumpers on the 
occasion. Sir Joshua eagerly sought to associate his old and 
valued friends with him in his new honors, and it is sup- 
posed to be through his suggestions that, on the first estab- 
lishment of professorships, which took place in December, 

15 1769, Johnson was nominated to that of Ancient Literature, 
and Goldsmith to that of History. They were mere honor- 
ary titles, without emolument, but gave distinction, from 
the noble institution to which they appertained. They also 
gave the possessors honorable places at the annual banquet, 

20 at which were assembled many of the most distinguished 
persons of rank and talent, all proud to be classed among 
the patrons of the arts. 

1 We must apologize for the anachronism we have permitted ourselves in the 
course of this memoir, in speaking of Reynolds as Sir Joshua^ when treating of 
circumstances which occurred prior to his being dubbed ; but it is so customary 
to speak of him by that title, that we found it difficult to dispense with it. 

214 



LETTER TO HIS BROTHER MAURICE 215 

The following letter of Goldsmith to his brother alludes 
to the foregoing appointment, and to a small legacy be- 
queathed to him by his uncle Contarine. 

" To Mr. Maurice Goldsmith^ at James Laivder's, Esq., at 

Kilmore, near Carrick-on-Shannofi, 5 

" January, 1770. 

" Dear Brother, — I should have answered your letter 
sooner, but, in truth, I am not fond of thinking of the 
necessities of those I love, when it is so very little in my 
power to help them. I am sorry to find you are every way 10 
unprovided for ; and what adds to my uneasiness is, that 
I have received a letter from my sister Johnson, by which I 
learn that she is pretty much in the same circumstances. 
As to myself, I believe I think I could get both you and my 
poor brother-in-law something like that which you desire, 15 
but I am determined never to ask for little things, nor 
exhaust any little interest I may have, until I can serve 
you, him, and myself more effectually. As yet, no oppor- 
tunity has offered ; but I believe you are pretty well con- 
vinced that I will not be remiss when it arrives. 20 

"The King has lately been pleased to make me professor 
of Ancient History in the royal academy of painting which 
he has just established, but there is no salary annexed ; and 
I took it rather as a compliment to the Institution than any 
benefit to myself. Honors to one in my situation are some- 25 
thing like ruffles to one that wants a shirt. 

" You tell me that there are fourteen or fifteen pounds 
left me in the hands of my cousin Lawder, and you ask me 
what I would have done with them. My dear brother, I 
would by no means give any directions to my dear worthy 30 
relations at Kilmore how to dispose of money which is, 
properly speaking, more theirs than mine. All that I can 
say is, that I entirely, and this letter will serve to witness, 



2l6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

give up any right and title to it ; and I am sure they will 
dispose of it to the best advantage. To them I entirely 
leave it; whether they or you may think the whole neces- 
sary to fit you out, or whether our poor sister Johnson may 

5 not want the half, I leave entirely to their and your discre- 
tion. The kindness of that good couple to our shattered 
family demands our sincerest gratitude ; and, though they 
have almost forgotten me, yet, if good things at last arrive, 
I hope one day to return and increase their good-humor by 

10 adding to my own. 

" I have sent my cousin Jenny a miniature picture of 
myself, as I believe it is the most acceptable present I can 
offer. I have ordered it to be left for her at George Faulk- 
ner's, folded in a letter. The face, you well know, is ugly 

15 enough, but it is finely painted. I will shortly also send 
my friends over the Shannon some mezzotinto prints of 
myself, and some more of my friends here, such as Burke, 
Johnson, Reynolds, and Colman. I believe I have written 
a hundred letters to different friends in your country, 

20 and never received an answer to any of them. I do not 
know how to account for this, or why they are unwilling 
to keep up for me those regards which I must ever retain 
for them. 

" If, then, you have a mind to oblige me, you will write 

25 often, whether I answer you or not. Let me particularly 
have the news of our family and old acquaintances. For 
instance, you may begin by telling me about the family 
where you reside, how they spend their time, and whether 
they ever make mention of me. Tell me about my mother, 

30 my brother Hodson and his son, my brother Harry's son 
and daughter, my sister Johnson, the family of Ballyoughter, 
what is become of them, where they live, and how they do. 
You talked of being my only brother : I don't understand 
you. Where is Charles ? A sheet of paper occasionally 



A SHATTERED FAMILY 21/ 

filled with the news of this kind would make me very happy, 
and would keep you nearer my mind. As it is, my dear 
brother, believe me to be Yours most affectionately, 

"Oliver Goldsmith." 

By this letter we find the Goldsmiths the same shifting, 5 
shiftless race as formerly ; a " shattered family," scrambling 
on each other's back as soon as any rise above the surface. 
Maurice is " every way unprovided for " ; living upon cousin 
Jane and her husband; and, perhaps, amusing himself by 
hunting otter in the river Inny. Sister Johnson and her 10 
husband are as poorly off as Maurice, with, perhaps, no one 
at hand to quarter themselves upon ; as to the rest, *' what 
is become of them ? where do they live ? and how do they 
do ? what has become of Charles ? " What forlorn hap- 
hazard life is implied by these questions ! Can we wonder 15 
that, with all the love for his native place, which is shown 
throughout Goldsmith's writings, he had not the heart to 
return there ? Yet his affections are still there. He wishes 
to know whether the Lawders (which means his cousin 
Jane, his early Valentine) ever made mention of him ; he 20 
sends Jane his miniature; he believes "it is the most 
acceptable present he can offer " ; he evidently, therefore, 
does not believe she has almost forgotten him, although he 
intimates that he does : in his memory she is still Jane 
Contarine, as he last saw her, when he accompanied her 25 
harpsichord with his flute. Absence, like death, sets a seal 
on the image of those we have loved; we cannot realize the 
intervening changes which time may have effected. 

As to the rest of Goldsmith's relatives, he abandons his 
legacy of fifteen pounds, to be shared among them. It is 30 
all he has to give. His heedless improvidence is eating up 
the pay of the booksellers in advance. With all his literary 
success, he has neither money nor influence ; but he has 



2l8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

empty fame, and he is ready to participate with them ; he 
is honorary professor, without pay ; his portrait is to be 
engraved in mezzotint, in company with those of his friends, 
Burke, Reynolds, Johnson, Colman, and others, and he will 
5 send prints of them to his friends over the Channel, though 
they may not have a house to hang them up in. What a 
motley letter ! How indicative of the motley character of 
the writer ! By the by, the publication of a splendid mezzo- 
tinto engraving of his likeness by Reynolds was a great 

lo matter of glorification to Goldsmith, especially as it appeared 
in such illustrious company. As he was one day walking 
the streets in a state of high elation, from having just seen 
it figuring in the print-shop windows, he met a young gentle- 
man with a newly married wife hanging on his arm, whom 

15 he immediately recognized for Master Bishop, one of the 
boys he had petted and treated with sweetmeats when a 
humble usher at Milner's school. The kindly feelings of 
old times revived, and he accosted him with cordial famil- 
iarity, though the youth may have found some difficulty in 

20 recognizing in the personage, arrayed, perhaps, in garments 
of Tyrian dye, the dingy pedagogue of the Milners. " Come, 
my boy," cried Goldsmith, as if still speaking to a school- 
boy, — " come, Sam, I am delighted to see you. I must 
treat you to something — what shall it be? Will you have 

25 some apples ? " glancing at an old woman's stall ; then, 
recollecting the print-shop window : '' Sam," said he, " have 
you seen my picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds? Have you 
seen it, Sam ? Have you got an engraving ? " Bishop was 
caught ; he equivocated ; he had not yet bought it ; but he 

30 was furnishing his house, and had fixed upon the place 
where it was to be hung. " Ah, Sam ! " rejoined Goldsmith 
reproachfully, " if your picture had been published, I should 
not have waited an hour without having it." 



PORTRAITS AND ENGRAVINGS 219 

After all, it was honest pride, not vanity, in Goldsmith, 
that was gratified at seeing his portrait deemed worthy of 
being perpetuated by the classic pencil of Reynolds, and 
'' hung up in history " beside that of his revered friend John- 
son. Even the great moralist himself was not insensible to 5 
a feeling of this kind. Walking one day with Goldsmith, 
in Westminster Abbey, among the tombs of monarchs, war- 
riors, and statesmen, they came to the sculptured mementos 
of literary worthies in poets' corner. Casting his eye round 
upon these memorials of genius, Johnson muttered in a low 10 
tone to his companion, — 

" Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis." 
Goldsmith treasured up the intimated hope, and shortly after- 
wards, as they were passing by Temple Bar, where the heads 
of Jacobite rebels, executed for treason, were mouldering 15 
aloft on spikes, pointed up to the grizzly mementos, and 
echoed the intimation, 

" Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Character of the Goldsmiths as presented in Oliver's letter to 
Maurice. 

2. Was it honest pride or vanity that made Goldsmith glad to have 
Reynolds paint his portrait ? What are the most striking characteristics 
of this portrait? [See frontispiece.] 

3. When v^^as Joshua Reynolds knighted ? 

4. Describe the poets' corner in Westminster Abbey. [See diagram 
of the Abbey in Karl Baedeker's " London and Its Environs," § 19. On 
the numerous maps of London in Baedeker's guide-book will be found 
most of the places referred to in Irving's " Life of Goldsmith."] 



CHAPTER XXVIII 

Publication of the " Deserted Village " ; Notices and Illustrations of it. 

Several years had now elapsed since the publication of 
" The Traveller," and much wonder was expressed that the 
great success of that poem had not excited the author to 
further poetic attempts. On being questioned at the annual 
5 dinner of the Royal Academy by the Earl of Lisburn, why 
he neglected the Muses to compile histories and write novels, 
" My Lord," replied he, " by courting the Muses I shall starve, 
but by my other labors I eat, drink, have good clothes, and 
can enjoy the luxuries of life." So, also, on being asked by 

10 a poor writer what was the most profitable mode of exercising 
the pen, — " My dear fellow," replied he, good-humoredly, 
"pay no regard to the draggle-tailed Muses; for my part I 
have found productions in prose much more sought after 
and better paid for." 

15 Still, however, as we have heretofore shown, he found 
sweet moments of dalliance to steal away from his prosaic 
toils, and court the Muse among the green lanes and hedge- 
rows in the rural environs of London, and on the 26th of 
May, 1770, he was enabled to bring his " Deserted Village" 

20 before the public. 

The popularity of " The Traveller " had prepared the way 
for this poem, and its sale was instantaneous and immense. 
The first edition was immediately exhausted ; in a few days 
a second was issued ; in a few days more a third, and by 

25 the 1 6th of August the fifth edition was hurried through the 
press. As is the case with popular writers, he had become 
his own rival, and critics were inclined to give the preference 
to his first poem; but with the public at large we believe 



THOUGHTS OF HOME 221 

the "Deserted Village" has ever been the greatest favorite. 
Previous to its publication the bookseller gave him in advance 
a note for the price agreed upon, one hundred guineas. As 
the latter was returning home he met a friend to whom he 
mentioned the circumstance, and who, apparently judging 5 
of poetry by quantity rather than quality, observed that it 
was a great sum for so small a poem. " In truth," said Gold- 
smith, " I think so too ; it is much more than the honest 
man can afford or the piece is worth. I have not been easy 
since I received it." In fact, he actually returned the note 10 
to the bookseller, and left it to him to graduate the payment 
according to the success of the work. The bookseller, as 
may well be supposed, soon repaid him in full with many 
acknowledgments of his disinterestedness. This anecdote 
has been called in question, we know not on what grounds ; 15 
we see nothing in it incompatible with the character of Gold- 
smith, who was very impulsive, and prone to acts of incon- 
siderate generosity. 

As we do not pretend in this summary memoir to go into 
a criticism or analysis of any of Goldsmith's writings, we 20 
shall not dwell upon the peculiar merits of this poem ; we 
cannot help noticing, however, how truly it is a mirror of the 
author's heart, and of all the fond pictures of early friends 
and early life forever present there. It seems to us as if 
the very last accounts received from home, of his " shattered 25 
family," and the desolation that seemed to have settled upon 
the haunts of his childhood, had cut to the roots one feebly 
cherished hope, and produced the following exquisitely tender 
and mournful lines : — 

" In all my wand'rings round this world of care, 30 

In all my griefs — and God has giv'n my share — 
I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, 
Amid these humble bowers to lay me down ; 
To husband out life's taper at the close, 
And keep the flame from wasting by repose ; 35 



222 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, 
Amid the swains to show my book-learn'd skill, 
Around my fire an ev'ning group to draw, 
And tell of all I felt and all I saw ; 
c And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, 

Pants to the place from whence at first she flew ; 
I still had hopes, my long vexations past. 
Here to return — and die at home at last.'''' 

How touchingly expressive are the succeeding lines, wrung 
ID from a heart which all the trials and temptations and buffet- 
ings of the world could not render worldly ; which, amid a 
thousand follies and errors of the head, still retained its child- 
like innocence ; and which, doomed to struggle on to the last 
amidst the din and turmoil of the metropolis, had ever been 
15 cheating itself with a dream of rural quiet and seclusion : — 

" Oh bless'd retirement ! friend to life's decline. 
Retreats from care, that never must be mine, 
How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, 
A youth of labor with an age of ease ; 

20 Who quits a world where strong temptations try 

And, since 't is hard to combat, learns to fly ! 
For him no wretches, born to work and weep. 
Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep ; 
No surly porter stands, in guilty state, 

25 To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; 

But on he moves to meet his latter end. 
Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; 
Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, 
While resignation gently slopes the way ; 

30 And all his prospects brightening to the last, 

His heaven commences ere the world be past." 



Note 



The following article, which appeared in a London peri- 
odical, shows the effect of Goldsmith's poem in renovating 
35 the fortunes of Lissoy. 



LISSOY 223 

"About three miles from Ballymahon, a very central town 
in the sister-kingdom, is the mansion and village of Auburn, so 
called by their present possessor, Captain Hogan. Through 
the taste and improvement of this gentleman, it is now 
a beautiful spot, although fifteen years since it presented a 5 
very bare and unpoetical aspect. This, however, was owing 
to a cause which serves strongly to corroborate the asser- 
tion, that Goldsmith had this scene in view when he wrote 
his poem of ' The Deserted Village.' The then possessor, 
General Napier, turned all his tenants out of their farms 10 
that he might enclose them in his own private domain. 
Littleton, the mansion of the General, stands not far off, a 
complete emblem of the desolating spirit lamented by the 
poet, dilapidated and converted into a barrack. 

"The chief object of attraction is Lissoy, once the par- 15 
sonage-house of Henry Goldsmith, that brother to whom the 
poet dedicated his ' Traveller,' and who is represented as a 
village pastor, 

*' ' Passing rich with forty pounds a year.' 

" When I was in the country, the lower chambers were 20 
inhabited by pigs and sheep, and the drawing-rooms by oats. 
Captain Hogan, however, has, I believe, got it since into his 
possession, and has, of course, improved its condition. 

"Though at first strongly inclined to dispute the iden- 
tity of Auburn, Lissoy House overcame my scruples. As I 25 
clambered over the rotten gate, and crossed the grass-grown 
lawn or court, the tide of association became too strong for 
casuistry : here the poet dwelt and wrote, and here his 
thoughts fondly recurred when composing his ' Traveller ' 
in a foreign land. Yonder was the decent church, that 30 
literally ' topped the neighboring hill.' Before me lay the 
little hill of Knockrue, on which he declares, in one of his 
letters, he had rather sit with a book in hand than mingle 



224 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH 



in the proudest assemblies. And, above all, startlingly true, 
beneath my feet was 

*' ' Yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, 
And still where many a garden-flower grows wild.' 

" A painting from the life could not be more exact. * The 
stubborn currant-bush ' lifts its head above the rank grass, 
and the proud hollyhock flaunts where its sisters of the 
flower-knot are no more. 

" In the middle of the village stands the old ' hawthorn- 

lo tree,' built up with masonry to distinguish and preserve it ; 
it is old and stunted, and suffers much from the depreda- 
tions of post-chaise travellers, who generally stop to procure 
a twig. Opposite to it is the village alehouse, over the door 
of which swings ' The Three Jolly Pigeons.' Within, every- 

15 thing is arranged according to the letter : — 

" ' The whitewash 'd wall, the nicely-sanded floor, 
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door: 
The chest, contrived a double debt to pay, 
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; 
20 The pictures placed for ornament and use, 

The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.' 

" Captain Hogan, I have heard, found great difficulty in 
obtaining 'the twelve good rules,' but at length purchased 
them at some London bookstall to adorn the whitewashed 
25 parlor of 'The Three Jolly Pigeons.' However laudable 
this may be, nothing shook my faith in the reality of Auburn 
so much as this exactness, which had the disagreeable air of 
being got up for the occasion. The last object of pilgrimage 
is the quondam habitation of the schoolmaster, 

30 «' < There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule.' 

It is surrounded with fragrant proofs of identity in 

*' ' The blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay.' 



THE POET'S CHAIR 225 

There is to be seen the chair of the poet, which fell into the 
hands of its present possessors at the wreck of the parsonage- 
house ; they have frequently refused large offers of purchase ; 
but more, I dare say, for the sake of drawing contributions 
from the curious than from any reverence for the bard. The 5 
chair is of oak, with back and seat of cane, which precluded 
all hopes of a secret drawer, like that lately discovered in 
Gay's. There is no fear of its being worn out by the devout 
earnestness of sitters — as the cocks and hens have usurped 
undisputed possession of it, and protest most clamorously 10 
against all attempts to get it cleansed or to seat one's self. 
" The controversy concerning the identity of this Auburn 
was formerly a standing theme of discussion among the 
learned of the neighborhood ; but, since the pros and coti?> 
have been all ascertained, the argument has died away. Its 15 
abettors plead the singular agreement between the local his- 
tory of the place and the Auburn of the poem, and the 
exactness with which the scenery of the one answers to the 
description of the other. To this is opposed the mention of 
the nightingale, 20 

" ' And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made ' ; 

there being no such bird in the island. The objection is 
slighted, on the other hand, by considering the passage as 
a mere poetical license. ' Besides,' say they, ' the robin is 
the Irish nightingale.' And if it be hinted how unlikely it 25 
was that Goldsmith should have laid the scene in a place 
from which he was and had been so long absent, the 
rejoinder is always, ' Pray, sir, was Milton in hell when he 
built Pandemonium ? ' 

" The line is naturally drawn between ; there can be no 30 
doubt that the poet intended England by 

*' ' The land to hast'ning ills a prey, 
Where wealth accumulates and men decay.' 



226 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

But it is very natural to suppose that, at the same time, his 
imagination had in view the scenes of his youth, which give 
such strong features of resemblance to the picture." 



Best, an Irish clergyman, told Davis, the traveller in 

5 America, that the hawthorn-bush mentioned in the poem 

was still remarkably large. "I was riding once," said he, 

" with Brady, titular Bishop of Ardagh, when he observed 

to me, ' Ma foy Best, this huge overgrown bush is mightily 

in the way. I will order it to be cut down.' — ' What, sir ! ' 

[o replied I, 'cut down the bush that supplies so beautiful an 

image in " The Deserted Village " ? ' — ' Ma foy ! ' exclaimed 

the bishop, 'is that the hawthorn-bush? Then let it be 

sacred from the edge of the axe, and evil be to him that 

should cut off a branch.'" — The hawthorn-bush, however, 

[5 has long since been cut up, root and branch, in furnishing 

relics to literary pilgrims. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Goldsmith's reason for writing prose hack-work rather than poet- 
ical efforts of lasting merit. 

2. Which poem do you like better, " The Traveller " or " The 
Deserted Village".? Why? 

3. Why does Irving call his work a " summary memoir " ? 

4. What does Goldsmith mean in " The Deserted Village " by his 
statement that for the man who retires to rural seclusion " heaven com- 
mences ere the world be past " ? [Compare a similar idea in the early 
part of " The Vision of Sir Launfal."] 

5. What is Irving's purpose in appending the note to Chap- 
ter XXVIII ? Do you think that Auburn has been sufficiently iden- 
tified ? Are you convinced that Lissoy was the original of Auburn ? 
Does it make any difference whether Lissoy was the original or not ? 



CHAPTER XXIX 

The Poet among the Ladies ; Description of his Person and Manners — Expe- 
dition to Paris with the Horneck Family — The Traveller of Twenty and 
the Traveller of Forty — Hickey, the Special Attorney — An unlucky Exploit. 

The " Deserted Village " had shed an additional poetic 
grace round the homely person of the author ; he was becom- 
ing more and more acceptable in ladies' eyes, and finding 
himself more and more at ease in their society ; at least in 
the society of those whom he met in the Reynolds circle, 5 
among whom he particularly affected the beautiful family of 
the Hornecks. 

But let us see what were really the looks and manners of 
Goldsmith about this time, and what right he had to aspire 
to ladies' smiles ; and in so doing let us not take the sketches 10 
of Boswell and his compeers, who had a propensity to repre- 
sent him in caricature ; but let us take the apparently truth- 
ful and discriminating picture of him as he appeared to Judge 
Day, when the latter was a student in the Temple. 

"In person," says the Judge, "he was short; about five 15 
feet five or six inches ; strong, but not heavy in make ; 
rather fair in complexion, with brown hair; such, at least, 
as could be distinguished from his wig. His features were 
plain, but not repulsive, — certainly not so when lighted up 
by conversation. His manners were simple, natural, and 20 
perhaps on the whole, we may say, not polished; at least 
without the refinement and good-breeding which the exqui- 
site polish of his compositions would lead us to expect. He 
was always cheerful and animated, often, indeed, boisterous 
in his mirth ; entered with spirit into convivial society ; con- 25 
tributed largely to its enjoyments by solidity of information, 

227 



228 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

and the naivete and originality of his character ; talked often 
without premeditation, and laughed loudly without restraint." 
This, it will be recollected, represents him as he appeared 
to a young Templar, who probably saw him only in Temple 
5 coffee-houses, at students' quarters, or at the jovial supper- 
parties given at the poet's own chambers. Here, of course, 
his mind was in its rough dress ; his laugh may have been 
loud and his mirth boisterous ; but we trust all these matters 
became softened and modified when he found himself in 
10 polite drawing-rooms and in female society. 

But what say the ladies themselves of him ; and here, for- 
tunately, we have another sketch of him, as he appeared at 
the time to one of the Horneek circle ; in fact, we believe, 
to the Jessamy Bride herself. After admitting, apparently, 
IS with some reluctance, that " he was a very plain man," she 
goes on to say, "but had he been much more so, it was 
impossible not to love and respect his goodness of heart, 
which broke out on every occasion. His benevolence was 
unquestionable, and his coiintenafice bore every trace of it : no 
2o one that knew him intimately could avoid admiring and lov- 
ing his good qualities." When to all this we add the idea of 
intellectual delicacy and refinement associated with him by 
his poetry and the newly-plucked bays that were flourishing 
round his brow, we cannot be surprised that fine and fashion- 
25 able ladies should be proud of his attentions, and that even 
a young beauty should not be altogether displeased with the 
thoughts of having a man of his genius in her chains. 

We are led to indulge some notions of the kind from find- 
ing him in the month of July, but a few weeks after the publi- 
30 cation of the " Deserted Village," setting off on a six weeks' 
excursion to Paris, in company with Mrs. Horneek and her 
two beautiful daughters. A day or two before his departure, 
we find another new gala suit charged to him on the books 
of Mr. William Filby. Were the bright eyes of the Jessamy 



HINTS AND SURMISES 229 

Bride responsible for tliis additional extravagance of ward- 
robe ? Goldsmith had recently been editing the works of 
Parnell ; had he taken courage from the example of Edwin 
in the Fairy tale ? — 

" Yet spite of all that nature did - 

To make his uncouth form forbid, 

This creature dared to love. 
He felt the force of Edith's eyes, 
Nor wanted hope to gain the prize 

Coicld ladies look within "- jq 

All this we throw out as mere hints and surmises, leaving 
it to our readers to draw their own conclusions. It will be 
found, however, that the poet was subjected to shrewd ban- 
tering among his contemporaries about the beautiful Mary 
Horneck, and that he was extremely sensitive on the subject. 15 

It was in the month of June that he set out for Paris with 
his fair companions, and the following letter was written by 
him to Sir Joshua Reynolds, soon after the party landed at 
Calais. 

*' My Dear Friend, — 20 

" We had a very quick passage from Dover to Calais, 
which we performed in three hours and twenty minutes, all 
of us extremely sea-sick, which must necessarily have hap- 
pened, as my machine to prevent sea-sickness was not com- 
pleted. We were glad to leave Dover, because we hated to 25 
be imposed upon ; so were in high spirits at coming to Calais, 
where we were told that a little money would go a great way. 
" Upon landing, with two little trunks, which was all we 
carried with us, we were surprised to see fourteen or fifteen 
fellows all running down to the ship to lay their hands upon t^q 
them; four got under each trunk, the rest surrounded and 
held the hasps ; and in this manner our little baggage was 
conducted, with a kind of funeral solemnity, till it was safely 



230 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

lodged at the custom-house. We were well enough pleased 
with the people's civility till they came to be paid ; every 
creature that had the happiness of but touching our trunks 
with their finger expected sixpence ; and they had so pretty 

5 and civil a manner of demanding it, that there was no 
refusing them. 

" When we had done with the porters, we had next to 
speak with the custom-house officers, who had their pretty 
civil way too. We were directed to the Hotel d'Angleterre, 

lo where a valet-de-place came to offer his service, and spoke 
to me ten minutes before I once found out that he was 
speaking English. We had no occasion for his services, so 
we gave him a little money because he spoke English, and 
because he wanted it. I cannot help mentioning another 

15 circumstance: I bought a new riband for my wig at Can- 
terbury, and the barber at Calais broke it in order to gain 
sixpence by buying me a new one." 

An incident which occurred in the course of this tour has 
been tortured by that literary magpie, Boswell, into a proof 

20 of Goldsmith's absurd jealousy of any admiration shown to 
others in his presence. While stopping at a hotel in Lisle, 
they were drawn to the windows by a military parade in 
front. The extreme beauty of the Miss Hornecks immedi- 
ately attracted the attention of the officers, who broke forth 

25 with enthusiastic speeches and compliments intended for 
their ears. Goldsmith was amused for a while, but at length 
affected impatience at this exclusive admiration of his beau- 
tiful companions, and exclaimed, with mock severity of aspect, 
" Elsewhere I also would have my admirers." 

30 It is difficult to conceive the obtuseness of intellect neces- 
sary to misconstrue so obvious a piece of mock petulance and 
dry humor into an instance of mortified vanity and jealous 
self-conceit. 



BOSWELL'S ABSURDITIES 231 

Goldsmith jealous of the admiration of a group of gay- 
officers for the charms of two beautiful young women! This 
even out-Boswells Boswell ; yet this is but one of several 
similar absurdities, evidently misconceptions of Goldsmith's 
peculiar vein of humor, by which the charge of envious 5 
jealousy has been attempted to be fixed upon him. In the 
present instance it was contradicted by one of the ladies 
herself, who was annoyed that it had been advanced against 
him. "I am sure," said she, "from the peculiar manner of 
his humor, and assumed frown of countenance, what was 10 
often uttered in jest was mistaken, by those who did not 
know him, for earnest." No one was more prone to err on 
this point than Boswell. He had a tolerable perception of 
wit, but none of humor. 

The following letter to Sir Joshua Reynolds was subse- 15 
quently written. 

" To Si?' Joshua Reynolds. 

"Paris, July 29, [1770.] 

" My dear Friend, — I began a long letter to you from 
Lisle, giving a description of all that we had done and seen, 20 
but, finding it very dull, and knowing that you would show 
it again, I threw it aside and it was lost. You see by the 
top of this letter that we are at Paris, and (as I have often 
heard you say) we have brought our own amusement with 
us, for the ladies do not seem to be very fond of what we 25 
have yet seen. 

"With regard to myself, I find that travelling at twenty 
and forty are very different things. I set out with all my 
confirmed habits about me, and can find nothing on the 
Continent so good as when I formerly left it. One of our 30 
chief amusements here is scolding at everything we meet 
with, and praising everything and every person we left at 
home. You may judge, therefore, whether your name is 



232 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

not frequently bandied at table among us. To tell you the 
truth, I never thought I could regret your absence so much 
as our various mortifications on the road have often taught 
me to do. I could tell you of disasters and adventures 
5 without number ; of our lying in barns, and of my being 
half poisoned with a dish of green peas ; of our quarrelling 
with postilions, and being cheated by our landladies ; but 
I reserve all this for a happy hour which I expect to share 
with you upon my return. 

10 " I have little to tell you more, but that we are at present 
all well, and expect returning when we have stayed out one 
month, which I did not care if it were over this very day. 
I long to hear from you all, how you yourself do, how John- 
son, Burke, Dyer, Chamier, Colman, and every one of the 

15 club do. I wish I could send you some amusement in this 
letter, but I protest I am so stupefied by the air of this 
country (for I am sure it cannot be natural) that I have 
not a word to say. I have been thinking of the plot of 
a comedy, which shall be entitled ' A Journey to Paris/ in 

20 which a family shall be introduced with a full intention of 
going to France to save money. You know there is not a 
place in the world more promising for that purpose. As 
for the meat of this country, I can scarce eat it; and though 
we pay two good shillings a head for our dinner, I find it all 

25 so tough that I have spent less time with my knife than my 
picktooth. I said this as a good thing at the table, but it 
was not understood. I believe it to be a good thing, 

"As for our intended journey to Devonshire, I find it out 
of my power to perform it ; for, as soon as I arrive at Dover, 

30 I intend to let the ladies go on, and I will take a country- 
lodging somewhere near that place in order to do some busi- 
ness. I have so outrun the constable that I must mortify 
a little to bring it up again. For God's sake, the night you 
receive this, take your pen in your hand and tell me something 



THE CHANGES OF TWENTY YEARS 233 

about yourself and myself, if you know anything that has 
happened. About Miss Reynolds, about Mr. Bickerstaff, my 
nephew, or anybody that you regard. I beg you will send 
to Griffin the bookseller to know if there be any letters left 
for me, and be so good as to send them to me at Paris. 5 
They may perhaps be left for me at the Porter's Lodge, 
opposite the pump in Temple Lane. The same messenger 
will do. I expect one from Lord Clare, from Ireland. As 
for the others, I am not much uneasy about. 

" Is there anything I can do for you at Paris ? I wish you 10 
would tell me. The whole of my own purchases here is one 
silk coat, which I have put on, and which makes me look like 
a fool. But no more of that. I find that Colman has gained 
his lawsuit. I am glad of it. I suppose you often meet. I 
will soon be among you, better pleased with my situation at 15 
home than I ever was before. And yet I must say, that, if 
anything could make France pleasant, the very good women 
with whom I am at present would certainly do it. I could 
say more about that, but I intend showing them the letter 
before I send it away. What signifies teazing you longer 20 
with moral observations, when the business of my writing is 
over ? I have one thing only more to say, and of that I 
think every hour in the day, namely, that I am your most 
sincere and most affectionate friend, 

" Oliver Goldsmith. 25 

" Direct to me at the Hotel de Danemarc, ) 
Rue Jacob, Fauxbourg St. Germains." ( 

A word of comment on this letter : — 

Travelling is, indeed, a very different thing with Gold- 
smith the poor student at twenty, and Goldsmith the poet 30 
and Professor at forty. At twenty, though obliged to trudge 
on foot from town to town, and country to country, paying 
for a supper and a bed by a tune on the flute, everything 
pleased, everything was good ; a truckle-bed in a garret was 



234 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

a couch of down, and the homely fare of the peasant a feast 
fit for an epicure. Now, at forty, when he posts through the 
country in a carriage, with fair ladies by his side, everything 
goes wrong : he has to quarrel with postilions, he is cheated 

5 by landladies, the hotels are barns, the meat is too tough to 
be eaten, and he is half poisoned by green peas ! A line in 
his letter explains the secret: " the ladies do not seem to be 
very fond of what we have seen." " One of our chief amuse- 
ments is scolding at everything we meet with, and praising 

10 everything and every person we have left at home ! " — the 
true English travelling amusement. Poor Goldsmith ! he has 
" all his confir7ned habits about him " ; that is to say, he has 
recently risen into high life, and acquired high-bred notions; 
he must be fastidious like his fellow-travellers ; he dare not 

15 be pleased with what pleased the vulgar tastes of his youth. 
He is unconsciously illustrating the trait so humorously sat- 
irized by him in Ned Tibbs, the shabby beau, who can find 
" no such dressing as he had at Lord Crump's or Lady 
Crimp's"; whose very senses have grown genteel, and who 

20 no longer " smacks at wretched wine or praises detestable 
custard." A lurking thorn, too, is worrying him throughout 
this tour; he has "outrun the constable"; that is to say, his 
expenses have outrun his means, and he will have to make 
up for this butterfly flight by toiling like a grub on his 

25 return. 

Another circumstance contributes to mar the pleasure he 
had promised himself in this excursion. At Paris the party 
is unexpectedly joined by a Mr. Hickey, a bustling attorney, 
who is well acquainted with that metropolis and its environs, 

30 and insists on playing the cicerone on all occasions. He 
and Goldsmith do not relish each other, and they have 
several petty altercations. The lawyer is too much a man 
of business and method for the careless poet, and is dis- 
posed to manage everything. He has perceived Goldsmith's 



THE SPECIAL ATTORNEY 235 

whimsical peculiarities without properly appreciating his 
merits, and is prone to indulge in broad bantering and 
raillery at his expense, particularly irksome if indulged in 
presence of the ladies. He makes himself merry on his 
return to England, by giving the following anecdote as 5 
illustrative of Goldsmith's vanity: — 

" Being with a party at Versailles, viewing the water- 
works, a question arose among the gentlemen present, 
whether the distance from whence they stood to one of the 
little islands was within the compass of a leap. Goldsmith 10 
maintained the afSrmative; but, being bantered on the sub- 
ject, and remembering his former prowess as a youth, 
attempted the leap, but, falling short, descended into the 
water, to the great amusement of the company." 

Was the Jessamy Bride a witness of this unlucky exploit? 15 
, This same Hickey is the one of whom Goldsmith, some 
time subsequently, gave a good-humored sketch, in his 
poem of " The Retaliation." 

" Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature, 
And slander itself must allow him good-nature ; 20 

He cherish 'd his friend, and he relish'd a bumper. 
Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper. 
Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser ; 
I answer, No, no, for he always was wiser ; 

Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat ? 25 

His very worst foe can't accuse him of that ; 
Perhaps he confided in men as they go. 
And so was too foolishly honest ? Ah, no ! 
Then what was his failing ? Come, tell it, and burn ye — 
He was, could he help it ? a special attorney." 30 

One of the few remarks extant made by Goldsmith during 
his tour is the following, of whimsical import, in his " Ani- 
mated Nature." 

" In going through the towns of France, some time since, 
I could not help observing how much plainer their parrots ss 



236 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

spoke than ours, and how very distinctly I understood their 
parrots speak French, when I could not understand our own, 
though they spoke my native language. I at first ascribed 
it to the different qualities of the two languages, and was 
5 for entering into an elaborate discussion on the vowels and 
consonants; but a friend that was with me solved the diffi- 
culty at once, by assuring me that the French women scarce 
did anything else the whole day than sit and instruct their 
feathered pupils; and that the birds were thus distinct in 

10 their lessons in consequence of continual schooling." 

His tour does not seem to have left in his memory 
the most fragrant recollections ; for, being asked, after his 
return, whether travelling on the Continent repaid " an 
Englishman for the privations and annoyances attendant on 

15 it," he replied, " I recommend it by all means to the sick, 
if they are without the sense of s??ielling, and to the poor if 
they are without the sense of feeling, and to both if they 
can discharge from their minds all idea of what in England 
we term comfort." 

20 It is needless to say that the universal improvement in 
the art of living on the Continent has at the present day 
taken away the force of Goldsmith's reply, though even at 
the time it was more humorous than correct. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. The appearance and manners of Goldsmith about 1770. 

2. What conclusions do you draw from Irving's hints in this 
chapter ? 

3. Why does Irving call Boswell a literary magpie ? 

4. What is the difference between wit and humor? Do you find 
either in Irving's biography of Goldsmith ? 

5. Was it good etiquette for Reynolds to show Goldsmith's letters ? 

6. Anecdotes of Goldsmith's trip to the Continent in 1770. 



CHAPTER XXX 

Death of Goldsmith's Mother — Biography of Parnell— Agreement with 
Davies for the History of Rome — Life of BoUngbroke — The Haunch of 
Venison. 

On his return to England, Goldsmith received the melan- 
choly tidings of the death of his mother. Notwithstanding 
the fame as an author to which he had attained, she seems 
to have been disappointed in her early expectations from 
him. Like others of his family, she had been more vexed 5 
by his early follies than pleased by his proofs of genius ; 
and in subsequent years, when he had risen to fame and to 
intercourse with the great, had been annoyed at the igno- 
rance of the world and want of management, which pre- 
vented him from pushing his fortune. He had always, 10 
however, been an affectionate son, and in the latter years 
of her life, when she had become bUnd, contributed from 
his precarious resources to prevent her from feeling want. 

He now resumed the labors of the pen, which his recent 
excursion to Paris rendered doubly necessary. We should 15 
have mentioned a " Life of Parnell," published by him 
shortly after the "Deserted Village." It was, as usual, a 
piece of job-work, hastily got up for pocket-money. John- 
son spoke slightingly of it, and the author himself thought 
proper to apologize for its meagreness, — yet, in so doing, 20 
used a simile, which for beauty of imagery and felicity of 
language is enough of itself to stamp a value upon the essay. 

'' Such," says he, "is the very unpoetical detail of the life 
of a poet. Some dates and some few facts, scarcely more 
interesting than those that make the ornaments of a coun- 25 
try tombstone, are all that remain of one whose labors now 

237 



238 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

begin to excite universal curiosity. A poet, while living, is 
seldom an object sufficiently great to attract much attention; 
his real merits are known but to a few, and these are gener- 
ally sparing in their praises. When his fame is increased 
5 by time, it is then too late to investigate the peculiarities 
of his disposition ; the dews of morning are past, and we 
vainly try to continue the chase by the 7neridian splendor.''^ 

He now entered into an agreement with Davies to pre- 
pare an abridgment, in one volume duodecimo, of his 

10 "History of Rome"; but first to write a work for which 
there was a more immediate demand. Davies was about 
to republish Lord Bolingbroke's " Dissertation on Parties," 
which he conceived w^ould be exceedingly applicable to 
the affairs of the day, and make a probable hit during the 

15 existing state of violent political excitement; to give it still 
greater effect and currency, he engaged Goldsmith to intro- 
duce it with a prefatory life of Lord Bolingbroke. 

About this time Goldsmith's friend and countryman, Lord 
Clare, was in great affliction, caused by the death of his 

20 only son, Colonel Nugent, and stood in need of the sympa- 
thies of a kind-hearted friend. At his request, therefore, 
Goldsmith paid him a visit at his seat of Gosfield, taking 
his tasks with him, Davies was in a worry lest Gosfield 
Park should prove a Capua to the poet, and the time be 

25 lost. "Dr. Goldsmith," writes he to a friend, "has gone 
with Lord Clare into the country, and I am plagued to get 
the proofs from him of the ' Life of Lord Bolingbroke.' " 
The proofs, however, were furnished in time for the publi- 
cation of the work in December. The " Biography," though 

30 written during a time of political turmoil, and introducing 
a work intended to be thrown into the arena of politics, 
maintained that freedom from party prejudice observable 
in all the writings of Goldsmith. It was a selection of facts, 
drawn from many unreadable sources, and arranged into a 



BIOGRAPHY OF BOLINGBROKE 



239 



clear, flowing narrative, illustrative of the career and charac- 
ter of one who, as he intimates, " seemed formed by Nature 
to take delight in struggling with opposition; whose most 
agreeable hours were passed in storms of his own creating ; 
whose life was spent in a continual conflict of politics, and 5 
as if that was too short for the combat, has left his memory 
as a subject of lasting contention." The sum received by 
the author for this memoir is supposed, from circumstances, 
to have been forty pounds. 

Goldsmith did not find the residence among the great 10 
unattended with mortifications. He had now become accus- 
tomed to be regarded in London as a literary Hon, and 
was annoyed at what he considered a slight on the part 
of Lord Camden. He complained of it on his return to 
town at a party of his friends. "I met him," said he, 15 
'' at Lord Clare's house in the country ; and he took no 
more notice of me than if I had been an ordinary man." 
" The company," says Boswell, " laughed heartily at this 
piece of diverting simplicity.' " And foremost among the 
laughers was doubtless the rattle-pated Boswell. Johnson, 20 
however, stepped forward, as usual, to defend the poet, 
whom he would allow no one to assail but himself ; perhaps 
in the present instance he thought the dignity of Uterature 
itself involved in the question. " Nay, gentlemen," roared 
he, " Dr. Goldsmith is in the right. A nobleman ought to 25 
have made up to such a man as Goldsmith, and I think it 
is much against Lord Camden that he neglected him." 

After Goldsmith's return to town he received from Lord 
Clare a present of game, which he has celebrated and 
perpetuated in his amusing verses entitled the " Haunch 30 
of Venison." Some of the Hnes pleasantly set forth the 
embarrassment caused by the appearance of such an aristo- 
cratic delicacy in the humble kitchen of a poet, accustomed 
to look up to mutton as a treat : — 



240 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

" Thanks, my lord, for your venison; for finer or fatter 
Never rang'd in a forest, or smok'd in a platter : 
The haunch was a picture for painters to study. 
The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy; 
5 Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help regretting 

To spoil such a delicate picture by eating : 
I had thought in my chambers to place it in view, 
To be shown to my friends as a piece of virtu ; 
As in some Irish houses where things are so-so, 
10 One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show; 

But, for eating a rasher, of what they take pride in. 
They 'd as soon think of eating the pan it was fry'd in. 

But hang it — to poets, who seldom can eat, 
Your very good mutton 's a very good treat; 
15 Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt; 

It 'j- ^ike sending them ruffl.es, when wanting a shirt.^'' 

We have an amusing anecdote of one of Goldsmith's 
blunders which took place on a subsequent visit to Lord 
Clare's, when that nobleman was residing in Bath. 

20 Lord Clare and the Duke of Northumberland had houses 
next to each other of similar architecture. Returning home 
one morning from an early walk, Goldsmith, in one of his 
frequent fits of absence, mistook the house, and walked up 
into the Duke's dining-room, where he and the Duchess 

25 were about to sit down to breakfast. Goldsmith, still 
supposing himself in the house of Lord Clare, and that 
they were visitors, made them an easy salutation, being 
acquainted with them, and threw himself on a sofa in the 
lounging manner of a man perfectly at home. The Duke 

30 and Duchess soon perceived his mistake, and, while they 
smiled internally, endeavored, with the considerateness of 
well-bred people, to prevent any awkward embarrassment. 
They accordingly chatted sociably with him about matters 
in Bath, until, breakfast being served, they invited him to 

35 partake. The truth at once flashed upon poor heedless 



AN EMBARRASSING BLUNDER 24I 

Goldsmith; he started up from his free-and-easy position, 
made a confused apology for his blunder, and would have re- 
tired perfectly disconcerted, had not the Duke and Duchess 
treated the whole as a lucky occurrence to throw him in 
their way, and exacted a promise from him to dine with 
them. 

This may be hung up as a companion-piece to his blunder 
on his first visit to Northumberland House. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. The death of Goldsmith's mother. What appears to have been 
her influence over Oliver ? 

2. Read a few pages (as many as you can) of Boswell's " Life of 
Johnson," and decide whether Irving's attitude to Boswell is a fair 
one. [A cheap edition of Boswell's book is published by T. Y. Crowell 
& Company, New York.] 

3. Give an account of Goldsmith's appearance in the Duke of 
Northumberland's dining-room. 

4. How could Gosfield Park prove a Capua to Goldsmith ? 



CHAPTER XXXI 

Dinner at the Royal Academy — The Rowley Controversy — Horace Walpole's 
Conduct to Chatterton — Johnson at Redcliffe Church — Goldsmith's His- 
tory of England — Davies's Criticism — Letter to Bennet Langton, 

On St. George's day of this year (177 1), the first annual 
banquet of the Royal Academy was held in the exhibition 
room ; the walls of which were covered with works of art, 
about to be submitted to public inspection. Sir Joshua 
5 Reynolds, who first suggested this elegant festival, presided 
in his official character; Drs. Johnson and Goldsmith, of 
course, were present, as Professors of the academy; and, 
besides the academicians, there was a large number of the 
most distinguished men of the day as guests. Goldsmith 

10 on this occasion drew on himself the attention of the com- 
pany by launching out with enthusiasm on the poems 
recently given to the world by Chatterton, as the works of 
an ancient author by the name of Rowley, discovered in 
the tower of Redcliffe Church, at Bristol. Goldsmith spoke 

15 of them with rapture, as a treasure of old English poetry. 
This immediately raised the question of their authenticity; 
they having been pronounced a forgery of Chatterton's. 
Goldsmith was warm for their being genuine. When he 
considered, he said, the merit of the poetry, the acquaint- 

20 ance with life and the human heart displayed in them, the 
antique quaintness of the language and the familiar knowl- 
edge of historical events of their supposed day, he could 
not believe it possible they could be the work of a boy of 
sixteen, of narrow education, and confined to the duties 

25 of an attorney's office. They must be the productions of 
Rowley. 

242 



CHATTERTON 243 

Johnson, who was a stout unbeliever in Rowley, as he 
had been in Ossian, rolled in his chair and laughed at the 
enthusiasm of Goldsmith. Horace Walpole, who sat near 
by, joined in the laugh and jeer as soon as he found that 
the ^' trouvaille,'^ as he called it, "of his frie fid Chditt^rton'^ 5 
was in question. This matter, which had excited the simple 
admiration of Goldsmith, was no novelty to him, he said. 
" He might, had he pleased, have had the honor of usher- 
ing the great discovery to the learned world." And so he 
might, had he followed his first impulse in the matter, for 10 
he himself had been an original believer ; had pronounced 
some specimen verses sent to him by Chatterton wonderful 
for their harmony and spirit ; and had been ready to print 
them and publish them to the w^orld with his sanction. 
When he found, however, that his unknown correspondent 15 
was a mere boy, humble in sphere and indigent in circum- 
stances, and when Gray and Mason pronounced the poems 
forgeries, he had changed his whole conduct towards the 
unfortunate author, and by his neglect and coldness had 
dashed all his sanguine hopes to the ground. 20 

Exulting in his superior discernment, this cold-hearted man 
of society now went on to divert himself, as he says, with 
the credulity of Goldsmith, whom he was accustomed to pro- 
nounce ''an inspired idiot"; but his mirth was soon dashed, 
for on asking the poet what had become of this Chatterton, 25 
he was answered, doubtless in the feeling tone of one who 
had experienced the pangs of despondent genius, that " he 
had been to London, and had destroyed himself." 

The reply struck a pang of self-reproach even to the cold 
heart of Walpole ; a faint blush may have visited his cheek 30 
at his recent levity. "The persons of honor and veracity 
who were present," said he in after-years, when he found 
it necessary to exculpate himself from the charge of heart- 
less neglect of genius, " will attest with what surprise and 



244 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

concern I thus first heard of his death." Well might he feel 
concern. His cold neglect had doubtless contributed to 
madden the spirit of that youthful genius, and hurry him 
towards his untimely end ; nor have all the excuses and 
5 palliations of Walpole's friends and admirers been ever 
able entirely to clear this stigma from his fame. 

But what was there in the enthusiasm and credulity of 
honest Goldsmith in this matter, to subject him to the laugh 
of Johnson or the raillery of Walpole ? Granting the poems 

10 were not ancient, were they not good ? Granting they were 
not the productions of Rowley, were they the less admirable 
for being the productions of Chatterton? Johnson himself 
testified to their merits and the genius of their composer, 
when, some years afterwards, he visited the tower of Redcliffe 

15 Church, and was shown the coffer in which poor Chatterton 
had pretended to find them. " This," said he, " is the most 
extraordinary young man that has encountered my knowledge. 
// is wonderful how the whelp has written such things.^'' 

As to Goldsmith, he persisted in his credulity, and had 

20 subsequently a dispute with Dr. Percy on the subject, which 
interrupted and almost destroyed their friendship. After all, 
his enthusiasm was of a generous, poetic kind ; the poems 
remain beautiful monuments of genius, and it is even now 
difficult to persuade one's self that they could be entirely 

25 the productions of a youth of sixteen. 

In the month of August was pubUshed anonymously the 
'' History of England," on which Goldsmith had been for 
some time employed. It was in four volumes, compiled 
chiefly, as he acknowledged in the preface, from Rapin, 

30 Carte, Smollett, and Hume, " each of whom," says he, " have 
their admirers, in proportion as the reader is studious of 
political antiquities, fond of minute anecdote, a warm par- 
tisan, or a deliberate reasoner." It possessed the same kind 
of merit as his other historical compilations ; a clear, succinct 



THE "HISTORY OF ENGLAND" 245 

narrative, a simple, easy, and graceful style, and an agreeable 
arrangement of facts ; but was not remarkable for either 
depth of observation or minute accuracy of research. Many 
passages were transferred, with little if any alteration, from 
his " Letters from a Nobleman to his Son " on the same sub- 5 
ject. The work, though written without party feeling, met 
with sharp animadversions from political scribblers. The 
writer was charged with being unfriendly to liberty, disposed 
to elevate monarchy above its proper sphere ; a tool of min- 
isters ; one who would betray his country for a pension. 10 
Tom Davies, the publisher, the pompous little bibliopole of 
Russell Street, alarmed lest the book should prove unsalable, 
undertook to protect it by his pen, and wrote a long arti- 
cle in its defence in The Public Advertiser. He was vain 
of his critical effusion, and sought by nods and winks and 15 
innuendoes to intimate his authorship. " Have you seen," 
said he, in a letter to a friend, " ' An Impartial Account of 
Goldsmith's History of England ' ? If you want to know 
who was the writer of it, you will find him in Russell Street ; 
— but mum I ^^ 20 

The History, on the whole, however, was well received; 
some of the critics declared that English history had never 
before been so usefully, so elegantly, and agreeably epit- 
omized, " and, like his other historical writings, it has kept 
its ground " in English literature. 25 

Goldsmith had intended this summer, in company with 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, to pay a visit to Bennet Langton, at 
his seat in Lincolnshire, where he was settled in domestic 
life, having the year previously married the Countess Dowager 
of Rothes. The following letter, however, dated from his 30 
chambers in the Temple, on the 7th of September, apologizes 
for putting off the visit, while it gives an amusing account of 
his summer occupations and of the attacks of the critics on 
his " History of England " : — 



246 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

" My dear Sir, — 

" Since I had the pleasure of seeing you last, I have been 
almost wholly in the country, at a farmer's house, quite alone, 
trying to write a comedy. It is now finished ; but when or 
5 how it will be acted, or whether it will be acted at all, are 
questions I cannot resolve. I am therefore so much employed 
upon that, that I am under the necessity of putting off my 
intended visit to Lincolnshire for this season. Reynolds is 
just returned from Paris, and finds himself now in the case 

10 of a truant that must make up for his idle time by diligence. 
We have therefore agreed to postpone our journey till next 
summer, when we hope to have the honor of waiting upon 
Lady Rothes and you, and staying double the time of our 
late intended visit. We often meet, and never without 

15 remembering you. I see Mr. Beauclerc very often both in 
town and country. He is now going directly forward to 
become a second Boyle : deep in chemistry and physics. 
Johnson has been down on a visit to a country parson, 
Doctor Taylor, and is returned to his old haunts at Mrs. 

20 Thrale's. Burke is a farmer, eji attendmit a better place ; 
but visiting about too. Every soul is visiting about and 
merry but myself. And that is hard too, as I have been 
trying these three months to do something to make people 
laugh. There have I been strolling about the hedges, study- 

25 ing jests with a most tragical countenance. The *' Natural 
History " is about half finished, and I will shortly finish the 
rest. God knows I am tired of this kind of finishing, which 
is but bungling work ; and that not so much my fault as the 
fault of my scurvy circumstances. They begin to talk in 

30 town of the Opposition's gaining ground ; the cry of liberty 
is still as loud as ever. I have published, or Davies has 
published for me, an "Abridgment of the History of Eng- 
land," for which I have been a good deal abused in the 
newspapers, for betraying the liberties of the people. God 



LETTER TO LANGTON 247 

knows I had no thought for or against liberty in my head ; 
my whole aim being to make up a book of a decent size, 
that, as 'Squire Richard says, would do no harm to nobody. 
However, they set me down as an arrant Tory, and conse- 
quently an honest man. When you come to look at any 5 
part of it, you '11 say that I am a sore Whig. God bless you, 
and with my most respectful compliments to her Ladyship, 
I remain, dear Sir, your most affectionate humble servant, 

" Oliver Goldsmith." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

r. Does Goldsmith state fairly what must have been his real aim in 
the " History of England " ? Irving says that this abridgment has kept 
its ground in English literature. What qualities must a history possess 
in order to be considered literature t Is all written history literature ? 

2. When were the two projected works that are mentioned in Gold- 
smith's letter to Bennet Langton finally published ? 



CHAPTER XXXII 

Marriage of Little Comedy — Goldsmith at Barton — Practical Jokes at the 
Expense of his Toilet — Amusements at Barton — Aquatic Misadventure. 

Though Goldsmith found it impossible to break from his 
literary occupations to visit Bennet Langton, in Lincoln- 
shire, he soon yielded to attractions from another quarter, 
in which somewhat of sentiment may have mingled. Miss 
5 Catherine Horneck, one of his beautiful fellow-travellers, 
otherwise called Little Comedy, had been married in August 
to Henry William Bunbury, Esq., a gentleman of fortune, 
who has become celebrated for the humorous productions 
of his pencil. Goldsmith was shortly afterwards invited to 

10 pay the newly married couple a visit at their seat, at Barton, 
in Suffolk. How could he resist such an invitation — espe- 
cially as the Jessamy Bride would, of course, be among the 
guests .-* It is true, he was hampered with work ; he v/as 
still more hampered with debt ; his accounts with Newbery 

15 were perplexed; but all must give way. New advances are 
procured from Newbery, on the promise of a new tale in the 
style of the " Vicar of Wakefield," of which he showed him 
a few roughly-sketched chapters ; so, his purse replenished 
in the old way, "by hook or by crook," he posted off to 

20 visit the bride at Barton. He found there a joyous house- 
hold, and one where he was welcomed with affection. Gar- 
rick was there, and played the part of master of the revels, 
for he was an intimate friend of the master of the house. 
Notwithstanding early misunderstandings, a social inter- 

25 course between the actor and the poet had grown up of late, 
from meeting together continually in the same circle. A 

248 



VISIT TO BARTON 249 

few particulars have reached us concerning Goldsmith while 
on this happy visit. We believe the legend has come down 
from Miss Mary Horneck herself. "While at Barton," she 
says, " his manners were always playful and amusing, taking 
the lead in promoting any scheme of innocent mirth, and 5 
usually prefacing the invitation with ' Come, now, let us play 
the fool a little.' At cards, which was commonly a round 
game, and the stake small, he was always the most noisy, 
affected great eagerness to win, and teased his opponents of 
the gentler sex with continual jest and -banter on their want 10 
of spirit in not risking the hazards of the game. But one of 
his most favorite enjoyments was to romp with the children, 
when he threw off all reserve, and seemed one of the most 
joyous of the group. 

" One of the means by which he amused us was his songs, 15 
chiefly of the comic kind, which were sung with some taste 
and humor ; several, I believe, were of his own composi- 
tion,' and I regret that I neither have copies, which might 
have been readily procured from him at the time, nor do I 
remember their names." 20 

His perfect good-humor made him the object of tricks of 
all kinds ; often in retaliation of some prank which he him- 
self had played off. Unluckily, these tricks were sometimes 
made at the expense of his toilet, which, with a view perad- 
venture to please the eye of a certain fair lady, he had again 25 
enriched to the impoverishment of his purse. " Being at all 
times gay in his dress," says this ladylike legend, " he made 
his appearance at the breakfast-table in a smart black silk 
coat with an expensive pair of ruffles ; the coat some one 
contrived to soil, and it was sent to be cleansed ; but, either 30 
by accident, or probably by design, the day after it came 
home, the sleeves became daubed with paint, which was not 
discovered until the ruffles also, to his great mortification, 
were irretrievably disfigured. 



250 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

" He always wore a wig, a peculiarity which those who 
judge of his appearance only from the fine poetical head 
of Reynolds would not suspect ; and on one occasion some 
person contrived seriously to injure this important adjunct 

5 to dress. It was the only one he had in the country, and 
the misfortune seemed irreparable until the services of 
Mr. Bunbury's valet were called in, who, however, performed 
his functions so indifferently, that poor Goldsmith's appear- 
ance became the signal for a general smile." 

lo This was wicked waggery, especially when it was directed 
to mar all the attempts of the unfortunate poet to im- 
prove his personal appearance, about which he was at all 
times dubiously sensitive, and particularly when among the 
ladies. 

15 We have in a former chapter recorded his unlucky tumble 
into a fountain at Versailles, when attempting a feat of 
agility in presence of the fair Hornecks. Water was des- 
tined to be equally baneful to him on the present occa- 
sion. " Some difference of opinion," says the fair narrator, 

20 " having arisen with Lord Harrington respecting the depth 
of a pond, the poet remarked that it was not so deep but 
that, if anything valuable was to be found at the bottom, he 
would not hesitate to pick it up. His lordship, after some 
banter, threw in a guinea; Goldsmith, not to be outdone in 

25 this kind of bravado, in attempting to fulfil his promise with- 
out getting wet, accidentally fell in, to the amusement of all 
present, but persevered, brought out the money, and kept it, 
remarking that he had abundant objects on whom to bestow 
any farther proofs of his lordship's whim or bounty." 

30 All this is recorded by the beautiful Mary Horneck, the 
Jessamy Bride herself; but while she gives these amusing 
pictures of poor Goldsmith's eccentricities, and of the mis- 
chievous pranks played off upon him, she bears unqualified 
testimony, which we have quoted elsewhere, to the qualities 



THE UNFINISHED NOVEL 251 

of his head and heart, which shone forth in his countenance, 
and gained him the love of all who knew him. 

Among the circumstances of this visit vaguely called to 
mind by this fair lady in after years, was that Goldsmith 
read to her and her sister the first part of a novel which he 5 
had in hand. It was doubtless the manuscript mentioned 
at the beginning of this chapter, on which he had obtained 
an advance of money from Newbery to stave off some press- 
ing debts, and to provide funds for this very visit. It never 
was finished. The bookseller, when he came afterwards to 10 
examine the manuscript, objected to it as a mere narrative 
version of the " Good-Natured Man." Goldsmith, too easily 
put out of conceit of his writings, threw it aside, forget- 
ting that this was the very Newbery who kept his "Vicar 
of Wakefield" by him nearly two years, through doubts of 15 
its success. The loss of the manuscript is deeply to be 
regretted ; it doubtless would have been properly wrought 
up before given to the press, and might have given us new 
scenes of life and traits of character, while it could not fail 
to bear traces of his delightful style. What a pity he had 20 
not been guided by the opinions of his fair listeners at 
Barton, instead of that of the astute Mr. Newbery ! 



QUESTION 
I. Why did all who knew Goldsmith love him ? 



CHAPTER XXXIII 

Dinner at General Oglethorpe's — Anecdotes of the General — Dispute about 
Duelling — Ghost Stories. 

We have mentioned old General Oglethorpe as one of 
Goldsmith's aristocratical acquaintances. The veteran, born 
in 1698, had commenced life early, by serving, when a mere 
stripling, under Prince Eugene, against the Turks. He had 
5 continued in military life, and been promoted to the rank of 
major-general in 1745, and received a command during the 
Scottish rebellion. Being of strong Jacobite tendencies, 
he was suspected and accused of favoring the rebels ; and 
though acquitted by a court of inquiry, was never afterwards 

10 employed ; or, in technical language, was shelved. He had 
since been repeatedly a member of Parliament, and had 
always distinguished himself by learning, taste, active benev- 
olence, and high Tory principles. His name, however, has 
become historical, chiefly from his transactions in America, 

15 and the share he took in the settlement of the colony of 
Georgia. It lies embalmed in honorable immortality in a 
single line of Pope's : — 

" One, driven by stro7tg benevolence of soul, 
Shall fly, like Oglethorpe, from pole to pole." 

20 The veteran was now seventy-four years of age, but 
healthy and vigorous, and as much the preux chevalier as 
in his younger days, when he served with Prince Eugene. 
His table was often the gathering-place of men of talent. 
Johnson was frequently there, and delighted in drawing from 

25 the General details of his various "experiences." He was 
anxious that he should give the world his life. " I know no 

252 



DINNER AT GENERAL OGLETHORPE'S 253 

man," said he, " whose life would be more interesting." 
Still the vivacity of the General's mind and the variety 
of his knowledge made him skip from subject to subject 
too fast for the Lexicographer. "Oglethorpe," growled he, 
" never completes what he has to say." 5 

Boswell gives us an interesting and characteristic account 
of a dinner-party at the General's, (April loth, 1772,) at 
which Goldsmith and Johnson were present. After dinner, 
when the cloth was removed, Oglethorpe, at Johnson's 
request, gave an account of the siege of Belgrade, in the 10 
true veteran style. Pouring a little wine upon the table, he 
drew his lines and parallels with a wet finger, describing 
the positions of the opposing forces. "Here were we — 
here were the Turks," to all which Johnson listened with 
the most earnest attention, poring over the plans and 15 
diagrams with his usual purblind closeness. 

In the course of conversation the General gave an anec- 
dote of himself in early life, when serving under Prince 
Eugene. Sitting at table once in company with a prince of 
Wurtemberg, the latter gave a fillip to a glass of wine, so as 20 
to make some of it fly in Oglethorpe's face. The manner 
in which it was done was somewhat equivocal. How was 
it to be taken by the stripling officer ? If seriously, he 
must challenge the Prince ; but in so doing he might fix 
on himself the character of a drawcansir. If passed over 25 
without notice, he might be charged with cowardice. His 
mind was made up in an instant. " Prince," said he, smil- 
ing, " that is an excellent joke ; but we do it much better in 
England." So saying he threw a whole glass of wine in the 
Prince's face. " II a bien fait, mon Prince," cried an old 30 
General present, "vous I'avez commence." (He has done 
right, my Prince ; you commenced it.) The Prince had the 
good sense to acquiesce in the decision of the veteran, and 
Oglethorpe's retort in kind was taken in good part. 



254 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

It was probably at the close of this story that the ofificious 
Boswell, ever anxious to promote conversation for the ben- 
efit of his note-book, started the question whether duelling 
were consistent with moral duty. The old General fired up 
5 in an instant. " Undoubtedly," said he, with a lofty air ; 
"undoubtedly a man has a right to defend his honor." 
Goldsmith immediately carried the war into Boswell's own 
quarters, and pinned him with the question, " what he would 
do if affronted ? " The pliant Boswell, who for the moment 

10 had the fear of the General rather than of Johnson before 
his eyes, replied, "he should think it necessary to fight." 
"Why, then, that solves the question," replied Goldsmith. 
" No, sir ! " thundered out Johnson ; " it does not follow 
that what a man would do, is therefore right." He, how- 

15 ever, subsequently went into a discussion to show that there 
were necessities in the case arising out of the artificial 
refinement of society, and its proscription of any one who 
should put up with an affront without fighting a duel. 
" He, then," concluded he, "who fights a duel does not fight 

20 from passion against his antagonist, but out of self-defence, 
to avert the stigma of the world, and to prevent himself 
from being driven out of society. I could wish there were 
not that superfluity of refinement ; but while such notions 
prevail, no doubt a man may lawfully fight a duel." 

25 Another question started was, whether people who disa- 
greed on a capital point could live together in friendship. 
Johnson said they might. Goldsmith said they could not, 
as they had not the idem velle atque idem nolle — the same 
likings and aversions. Johnson rejoined, that they must 

30 shun the subject on which they disagreed. " But, sir," 
said Goldsmith, " when people live together who have some- 
thing as to which they disagree, and which they want to 
shun, they will be in the situation mentioned in the story of 
Blue Beard : 'you may look into all the chambers but one '; 



GHOST STORIES 255 

but we should have the greatest inclination to look into that 
chamber, to talk of that subject." "Sir," thundered John- 
son, in a loud voice, " I am not saying that you could live 
in friendship with a man from whom you differ as to some 
point; I am only saying that /could do it." 5 

Who will not say that Goldsmith had the best of this 
petty contest.? How just was his remark! how felicitous 
the illustration of the blue chamber ! how rude and over- 
bearing was the argumentum ad hominem of Johnson, when 
he felt that he had the worst of the argument ! 10 

The conversation turned upon ghosts. General Ogle- 
thorpe told the story of a Colonel Prendergast, an officer in 
the Duke of Marlborough's army, who predicted among his 
comrades that he should die on a certain day. The battle of 
Malplaquet took place on that day. The Colonel was in the 15 
midst of it, but came out unhurt. The firing had ceased, 
and his brother officers jested with him about the fallacy of 
his prediction. "The day is not over," replied he, gravely; 
" I shall die notwithstanding what you see." His words 
proved true. The order for a cessation of firing had not 20 
reached one of the French batteries, and a random shot 
from it killed the Colonel on the spot. Among his effects 
was found a pocket-book in which he had made a solemn 
entry, that Sir John Friend, who had been executed for high 
treason, had appeared to him, either in a dream or vision, 25 
and predicted that he would meet him on a certain day (the 
very day of the battle). Colonel Cecil, who took possession 
of the effects of Colonel Prendergast, and read the entry in 
the pocket-book, told this story to Pope, the poet, in the 
presence of General Oglethorpe. 3° 

This story, as related by the General, appears to have 
been well received, if not credited, by both Johnson and 
Goldsmith, each of whom had something to relate in kind. 
Goldsmith's brother, the clergyman in whom he had such 



256 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

implicit confidence, had assured him of his having seen an 
apparition. Johnson also had a friend, old Mr. Cave, the 
printer, at St. John's Gate, " an honest man, and a sensible 
man," who told him he had seen a ghost ; he did not, how- 
5 ever, like to talk of it, and seemed to be in great horror when- 
ever it was mentioned. "And pray, sir," asked Boswell, 
" what did he say was the appearance ? " " Why, sir, some- 
thing of a shadowy being." 

The reader will not be surprised at this superstitious turn 

10 in the conversation of such intelligent men, when he recol- 
lects that, but a few years before this time, all London had 
been agitated by the absurd story of the Cock-lane ghost; 
a matter which Dr. Johnson had deemed worthy of his 
serious investigation, and about which Goldsmith had written 

15 a pamphlet. 

TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Narrate what happened at General Oglethorpe's dinner party. 

2. Are ghost stories current in the twentieth century? Have you 
ever heard of a ghost's troubling the community in which you live ? Are 
there any haunted houses ? [Recall the story of the Coverley ghost told 
about in the " Sir Roger de Coverley Papers."] 

3. Discuss the superstitions that hold sway among people of your 
acquaintance. Why should superstitions be less common now than in 
the eighteenth century ? 



CHAPTER XXXIV 

Mr. Joseph Cradock — An Author's Confidings — An Amanuensis — Life at 
Edgeware — Goldsmith Conjuring — George Cohiian — The Fantoccini. 

Among the agreeable acquaintances made by Goldsmith 
about this time was a Mr. Joseph Cradock, a young gentle- 
man of Leicestershire, living at his ease, but disposed to 
" make himself uneasy," by meddling with literature and the 
theatre; in fact, he had a passion for plays and players, and 5 
had come up to town with a modified translation of Voltaire's 
tragedy of "Zobeide," in a view to get it acted. There was 
no great difficulty in the case, as he was a man of fortune, 
had letters of introduction to persons of note, and was alto- 
gether in a different position from the indigent man of genius 10 
whom managers might harass with impunity. Goldsmith met 
him at the house of Yates, the actor, and finding that he 
was a friend of Lord Clare, soon became sociable with him. 
Mutual tastes quickened the intimacy, especially as they 
found means of serving each other. Goldsmith wrote an 15 
epilogue for the tragedy of "Zobeide"; and Cradock, who 
was an amateur musician, arranged the music for the " Thre- 
nodia Augustalis," a Lament on the death of the Princess 
Dowager of Wales, the political mistress and patron of Lord 
Clare, which Goldsmith had thrown off hastily to please that 20 
nobleman. The tragedy was played with some success at 
Covent Garden ; the Lament was recited and sung at Mrs. 
Cornelys' rooms — a very fashionable resort in Soho Square, 
got up by a woman of enterprise of that name. It was in 
whimsical parody of those gay and somewhat promiscuous 25 
assemblages that Goldsmith used to call the motley evening 
parties at his lodgings " little Cornelys." 

257 



258 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

The " Threnodia Augustalis " was not publicly known to 
be by Goldsmith until several years after his death. 

Cradock was one of the few polite intimates who felt 
more disposed to sympathize with the generous qualities of 
5 the poet than to sport with his eccentricities. He sought 
his society whenever he came to town, and occasionally had 
him to his seat in the country. Goldsmith appreciated his 
sympathy, and unburdened himself to him without reserve. 
Seeing the lettered ease in which this amateur author was 

10 enabled to live, and the time he could bestow on the elabo- 
ration of a manuscript, "Ah ! Mr. Cradock," cried he, "think 
of me, that must write a volume every month!" He com- 
plained to him of the attempts made by inferior writers, and 
by others who could scarcely come under that denomination, 

15 not only to abuse and depreciate his writings, but to render 
him ridiculous as a man ; perverting every harmless senti- 
ment and action into charges of absurdity, malice, or folly. 
"Sir," said he, in the fulness of his heart, "I am as a lion 
baited by curs ! " 

20 Another acquaintance, which he made about this time, 
was a young countryman of the name of M'Donnell, whom 
he met in a state of destitution, and, of course, befriended. 
The following grateful recollections of his kindness and his 
merits were furnished by that person in after-years : — 

25 " It was in the year 1772," writes he, "that the death of 
my elder brother — when in London, on my way to Ireland 
— left me in a most forlorn situation ; I was then about 
eighteen; I possessed neither friends nor money, nor the 
means of getting to Ireland, of which or of England I knew 

30 scarcely anything, from having so long resided in France. 
In this situation I had strolled about for two or three days, 
considering what to do, but unable to come to any determi- 
nation, when Providence directed me to the Temple Gardens. 
I threw myself on a seat, and, willing to forget my miseries 



RECOLLECTIONS OF M'DONNELL 259 ■ 

for a moment, drew out a book ; that book was a volume of 
Boileau. I had not been there long when a gentleman, 
strolling about, passed near me, and observing, perhaps, 
something Irish or foreign in my garb or countenance, 
addressed me : ' Sir, you seem studious ; I hope you find 5 
this a favorable place to pursue it.' ' Not very studious, sir; 
I fear it is the want of society that brings me hither; I am 
solitary and unknown in this metropolis'; and a passage 
from Cicero — Oratio pro Archia — occurring to me, I quoted 
it : ' Haec studia pernoctant nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusti- To 
cantur.' ' You are a scholar, too, sir, I perceive.' ' A piece 
of one^ sir; but I ought still to have been in the college 
where I had the good fortune to pick up the little I know.' 
A good deal of conversation ensued ; I told him part of my 
history, and he, in return, gave his address in the Temple, 15 
desiring me to call soon, from which, to my infinite surprise 
and gratification, I found that the person who thus seemed 
to take an interest in my fate was my countryman, and a 
distinguished ornament of letters. 

" I did not fail to keep the appointment, and was received 20 
in the kindest manner. He told me, smiHngly, that he was 
not rich ; that he could do little for me in direct pecuniary 
aid, but would endeavor to put me in the way of doing some- 
thing for myself; observing, that he could at least furnish 
me with advice not wholly useless to a young man placed in 25 
the heart of a great metropolis. ' In London,' he continued, 
' nothing is to be got for nothing ; you must work ; and no 
man who chooses to be industrious need be under obliga- 
tions to another, for here labor of every kind commands its 
reward. If you think proper to assist me occasionally as 30 
amanuensis, I shall be obliged, and you will be placed under 
no obligation, until something more permanent can be secured 
for you.' This employment, which I pursued for some time, 
was to translate passages from Buffon, which were abridged 



26o OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

or altered, according to circumstances, for his ' Natural 
History.' " 

Goldsmith's literary tasks were fast getting ahead of him, 
and he began now to " toil after them in vain." 
5 Five volumes of the " Natural History " here spoken of 
had long since been paid for by Mr. Griffin, yet most of them 
were still to be written. His young amanuensis bears testi- 
mony to his embarrassments and perplexities, but to the 
degree of equanimity with which he bore them : — 

10 "It has been said," observes he, "that he was irritable. 
Such may have been the case at times ; nay, I believe it was 
so ; for what with the continual pursuit of authors, printers, 
and booksellers, and occasional pecuniary embarrassments, 
few could have avoided exhibiting similar marks of impa- 

15 tience. But it was never so towards me. I saw him only in 
his bland and kind moods, with a flow, perhaps an overflow, 
of the milk of human kindness for all who were in any man- 
ner dependent upon him. I looked upon him with awe and 
veneration, and he upon me as a kind parent upon a child. 

20 " His manner and address exhibited much frankness and 
cordiality, particularly to those with whom he possessed any 
degree of intimacy. His good-nature was equally apparent. 
You could not dislike the man, although several of his follies 
and foibles you might be tempted to condemn. He was gen- 

25 erous and inconsiderate ; money with him had little value." 
To escape from many of the tormentors jus^ alluded to, 
and to devote himself without interruption to his task, Gold- 
smith took lodgings for the summer at a fann-house near 
the six-mile stone on the Edgeware road, ar^d carried down 

30 his books in two return post-chaises. He used to say he 
believed the farmer's family thought him an odd character, 
similar to that in which the Spectator appeared to his land- 
lady and her children ; he was The Gentleman. Boswell tells 
us that he went to visit him at the place in company with 



LIFE AT EDGEWARE 26 1 

Mickle, translator of the " Lusiad." Goldsmith was not at 
home. Having a curiosity to see his apartment, however, 
they went in, and found curious scraps of descriptions of 
animals scrawled upon the wall with a black lead pencil. 

The farm-house in question is still in existence, though 5 
much altered. It stands upon a gentle eminence in Hyde 
Lane, commanding a pleasant prospect towards Hendon. 
The room is still pointed out in which " She Stoops to Con- 
quer" was written ; a convenient and airy apartment, up 
one flight of stairs. 10 

Some matter-of-fact traditions concerning the author were 
furnished, a few years since, by a son of the farmer, who 
was sixteen years of age at the time Goldsmith resided 
with his father. Though he had engaged to board with 
the family, his meals were generally sent to him in his room, 15 
in which he passed the most of his time, negligently dressed, 
with his shirt-collar open, busily engaged in writing. Some- 
times, probably when in moods of composition, he would 
wander into the kitchen, without noticing any one, stand 
musing with his back to the fire, and then hurry off again 20 
to his room, no doubt to commit to paper some thought 
which had struck him. 

Sometimes he strolled about the fields, or was to be seen 
loitering and reading and musing under the hedges. He 
was subject to fits of wakefulness, and read much in bed; 25 
if not disposed to read, he still kept the candle burning ; if 
he wished to extinguish it, and it was out of his reach, he 
flung his slipper at it, which would be found in the morning 
near the overturned candlestick and daubed with grease. 
He was noted here, as everywhere else, for his charitable 30 
feelings. No beggar applied to him in vain, and he evinced 
on all occasions great commiseration for the poor. 

He had the use of the parlor to receive and entertain 
company, and was visited by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Hugh 



262 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Boyd, the reputed author of " Junius," Sir William Cham- 
bers, and other distinguished characters. He gave occasion- 
ally, though rarely, a dinner-party ; and on one occasion, 
when his guests were detained by a thunder-shower, he got 
5 up a dance, and carried the merriment late into the night. 
As usual, he was the promoter of hilarity among the 
young, and at one time took the children of the house to see 
a company of strolling players at Hendon. The greatest 
amusement to the party, however, was derived from his own 
10 jokes on the road and his comments on the perform- 
ance, which produced infinite laughter among his youthful 
companions. 

Near to his rural retreat at Edgeware, a Mr. Seguin, an 
Irish merchant, of literary tastes, had country quarters for 
15 his family, where Goldsmith was always welcome. 

In this family he would indulge in playful and even gro- 
tesque humor, and was ready for anything — conversation, 
music, or a game of romps. He prided himself upon his 
dancing, and would walk a minuet with Mrs. Seguin, to the 
20 infinite amusement of herself and the children, whose shouts 
of laughter he bore with perfect good-humor. He would 
sing Irish songs, and the Scotch ballad of "Johnny Arm- 
strong." He took the lead in the children's sports of blind- 
man's-buff, hunt the slipper, &c., or in their games at cards, 
25 and was the most noisy of the party, affecting to cheat 
and to be excessively eager to win ; while with children of 
smaller size he would turn the hind part of his wig before, 
and play all kinds of tricks to amuse them. 

One word as to his musical skill and his performance on 
30 the flute, which comes up so invariably in all his fireside 
revels. He really knew nothing of music scientifically ; he 
had a good ear, and may have played sweetly ; but we are 
told he could not read a note of music. Roubillac, the 
statuary, once played a trick upon him in this respect. 



GEORGE COLMAN — CONJURING 263 

He pretended to score down an air as the poet played it, 
but put down crotchets and semibreves at random. When 
he had finished, Goldsmith cast his eyes over it and pro- 
nounced it correct ! It is possible that his execution in 
music was like his style in writing ; in sweetness and melody 5 
he may have snatched a grace beyond the reach of art ! 

He was at all times a capital companion for children, and 
knew how to fall in with their humors. " I little thought," 
said Miss Hawkins, the woman grown, "what I should have 
to boast when Goldsmith taught me to play Jack and Jill 10 
by two bits of paper on his fingers," He entertained Mrs. 
Garrick, we are told, with a whole budget of stories and 
songs; delivered the " Chimney Sweep " with exquisite taste 
as a solo ; and performed a duet with Garrick of "Old Rose 
and Burn the Bellows." 15 

" I was only five years old," says the late George Colman, 
" when Goldsmith one evening, when drinking coffee with 
my father, took me on his knee and began to play with 
me, which amiable act I returned with a very smart slap in 
the face ; it must have been a tingler, for I left the marks 20 
of my little spiteful paw upon his cheek. This infantile 
outrage was followed by summary justice, and I was locked 
up by my father in an adjoining room, to undergo solitary 
imprisonment in the dark. Here I began to howl and 
scream most abominably. At length a friend appeared to 25 
extricate me from jeopardy; it was the good-natured Doctor 
himself, with a lighted candle in his hand, and a smile upon 
his countenance, which was still partially red from the effects 
of my petulance. I sulked and sobbed, and he fondled and 
soothed until I began to brighten. He seized the propitious 30 
moment, placed three hats upon the carpet, and a shilling 
under each ; the shillings, he told me, were England, France, 
and Spain. ' Hey, presto, cockolorum ! ' cried the Doctor, 
and, lo ! on uncovering the shillings, they were all found 



264 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

congregated under one. I was no politician at the time, 
and therefore might not have wondered at the sudden revo- 
lution which brought England, France, and Spain all under 
one crown ; but, as I was also no conjurer, it amazed me 
5 beyond measure. From that time, whenever the Doctor 
came to visit my father, 

" ' I pluck'd his gown to share the good man's smile ' ; * 

a game of romps constantly ensued, and we were always 
cordial friends and merry playfellows." 

10 Although Goldsmith made the Edgeware farm-house his 
headquarters for the summer, he would absent himself for 
weeks at a time on visits to Mr. Cradock, Lord Clare, and 
Mr. Langton, at their country-seats. He would often visit 
town, also, to dine and partake of the pubhc amusements. 

15 On one occasion he accompanied Edmund Burke to wit- 
ness a performance of the Italian Fantoccini or Puppets, 
in Panton Street ; an exhibition which had hit the caprice 
of the town, and was in a great vogue. The puppets were 
set in motion by wires, so well concealed as to be with diffi- 

20 culty detected, Boswell, with his usual obtuseness with 
respect to Goldsmith, accuses him of being jealous of the 
puppets! "When Burke," said he, "praised the dexterity 
with which one of them tossed a pike, ' Pshaw,' said Gold- 
smith with some warjiith, *I can do it better myself.' " "The 

25 same evening," adds Boswell, " when supping at Burke's 
lodgings, he broke his shin by attempting to exhibit to the 
company how much better he could jump over a stick than 
the puppets." 

Goldsmith jealous of puppets ! This even passes in ab- 

30 surdity Boswell's charge upon him of being jealous of the 
beauty of the two Miss Hornecks. 

The Panton-Street puppets were destined to be a source 
of further amusement to the town, and of annoyance to the 



THE PUPPET-SHOW 265 

little autocrat of the stage. Foote, the Aristophanes of the 
English drama, who was always on the alert to turn every 
subject of popular excitement to account, seeing the success 
of the Fantoccini, gave out that he should produce a Prim- 
itive Puppet-Show at the Haymarket, to be entitled "The 
Handsome Chambermaid, or Piety in Pattens"; intended to 
burlesque the sentimental co??iedy which Garrick still main- 
tained at Drury Lane. The idea of a play to be performed 
in a regular theatre by puppets excited the curiosity and 
talk of the town. "Will your puppets be as large as life, 
Mr. Foote? " demanded a lady of rank. "Oh, no, my lady," 
replied Foote, '^7iot iiiuch larger than Garrick^ 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Do you blame Goldsmith at this period (about 1772) for being 
occasionally irritable ? 

2. Gather together all the bad qualities of Goldsmith thus far 
chronicled by Irving, and all the good qualities. 

3. Goldsmith's fondness for children. 

4. Write a composition on how Goldsmith spent his summers for a 
number of years before his death. 

5. New acquaintances of Goldsmith at this period. 



CHAPTER XXXV 

Broken Health — Dissipation and Debts — The Irish Widow — Practical Jokes 
— Scrub — A misquoted Pun — Malagrida — Goldsmith proved to be a 
Fool — Distressed Ballad-Singers— The Poet at Ranelagh, 

Goldsmith returned to town in the autumn (1772), with 
his health much disordered. His close fits of sedentary 
application, during which he in a manner tied himself to 
the mast, had laid the seeds of a lurking malady in his 
5 system, and produced a severe illness in the course of the 
summer. Town-life was not favorable to the health either 
of body or mind. He could not resist the siren voice of 
temptation, which, now that he had become a notoriety, 
assailed him on every side. Accordingly we find him 

10 launching away in a career of social dissipation ; dining 
and supping out ; at clubs, at routs, at theatres ; he is a 
guest with Johnson at the Thrales, and an object of Mrs. 
Thrale's lively sallies ; he is a lion at Mrs. Vesey's and 
Mrs. Montagu's, where some of the high-bred blue-stockings 

15 pronounce him a "wild genius," and others, peradventure, 
a "wild Irishman." In the mean time his pecuniary diffi- 
culties are increasing upon him, conflicting with his prone- 
ness to pleasure and expense, and contributing by the 
harassment of his mind to the wear and tear of his consti- 

20 tution. His "Animated Nature," though not finished, has 
been entirely paid for, and the money spent. The money 
advanced by Garrick on Newbery's note, still hangs over 
him as a debt. The tale on which Newbery had loaned 
from two to three hundred pounds previous to the excursion 

25 to Barton, has proved a failure. The bookseller is urgent 
for the settlement of his complicated account ; the perplexed 

266 



DISSIPATION AND DEBTS 267 

author has nothing to offer him in liquidation but the copy- 
right of the comedy which he has in his portfolio ; "Though, 
to tell you the truth, Frank," said he, "there are great 
doubts of its success." The offer was accepted, and, like 
bargains wrung from Goldsmith in times of emergency, 5 
turned out a golden speculation to the bookseller. 

In this way Goldsmith went on " overrunning the con- 
stable," as he termed it ; spending everything in advance ; 
working with an overtasked head and weary heart to pay 
for past pleasures and past extravagance, and at the same 10 
time incurring new debts, to perpetuate his struggles and 
darken his future prospects. While the excitement of soci- 
ety and the excitement of composition conspire to keep 
up a feverishness of the system, he has incurred an unfor- 
tunate habit of quacking himself with James's powders, a 15 
fashionable panacea of the day. 

A farce, produced this year by Garrick, and entitled 
"The Irish Widow," perpetuates the memory of practical 
jokes played off a year or two previously upon the alleged 
vanity of poor, simple-hearted Goldsmith. He was one 20 
evening at the house of his friend Burke, when he was beset 
by a tenth muse, an Irish widow and authoress, just arrived 
from Ireland, full of brogue and blunders, and poetic fire 
and rantipole gentility. She was soliciting subscriptions 
for her poems, and assailed Goldsmith for his patronage ; 25 
the great Goldsmith — her countryman, and of course her 
friend. She overpowered him with eulogiums on his own 
poems, and then read some of her own, with vehemence 
of tone and gesture, appealing continually to the great 
Goldsmith to know how he relished them. 30 

Poor Goldsmith did all that a kind-hearted and gallant 
gentleman could do in such a case ; he praised her poems 
as far as the stomach of his sense would permit — perhaps 
a little further ; he offered her his subscription ; and it was 



268 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

not until she had retired with many parting compliments to 
the great Goldsmith, that he pronounced the poetry which 
had been inflicted on him execrable. The whole scene had 
been a hoax got up by Burke for the amusement of his com- 

5 pany ; and the Irish widow, so admirably performed, had 
been personated by a Mrs. Balfour, a lady of his connection, 
of great sprightliness and talent. 

We see nothing in the story to establish the alleged 
vanity of Goldsmith, but we think it tells rather to the 

10 disadvantage of Burke, — being unwarrantable under their 
relations of friendship, and a species of waggery quite 
beneath his genius. 

Croker, in his notes to Boswell, gives another of these 
practical jokes perpetrated by Burke at the expense of 

15 Goldsmith's credulity. It was related to Croker by Colonel 
O'Moore, of Cloghan Castle, in Ireland, who was a party 
concerned. The Colonel and Burke, walking one day 
through Leicester Square on their way to Sir Joshua Reyn- 
olds's, with whom they were to dine, observed Goldsmith, 

20 who was likewise to be a guest, standing and regarding 
a crowd which was staring and shouting at some foreign 
ladies in the window of a hotel. " Observe Goldsmith," said 
Burke to O'Moore, ''and mark what passes between us at 
Sir Joshua's." They passed on and reached there before 

25 him. Burke received Goldsmith with affected reserve and 
coldness ; being pressed to explain the reason, " Really," 
said he, " I am ashamed to keep company with a per- 
son who could act as you have just done in the Square." 
Goldsmith protested he was ignorant of what was meant. 

30 " Why," said Burke, " did you not exclaim, as you were 
looking up at those women, what stupid beasts the crowd 
must be for staring with such admiration at those painted. 
Jezebels, while a man of your talents passed by unnoticed ? " 
" Surely, surely, my dear friend," cried Goldsmith, with 



PRACTICAL JOKES 269 

alarm, " surely I did not say so ? " " Nay," replied Burke, 
"if you had not said so, how should I have known it?" 
"That's true," answered Goldsmith, "I am very sorry — it 
was very foolish: / do recollect that something of the kind 
passed through my mind, but I did not think I had uttered itT 5 

It is proper to observe that these jokes were played off 
by Burke before he had attained the full eminence of 
his social position, and that he may have felt privileged to 
take liberties with Goldsmith as his countryman and college 
associate. It is evident, however, that the peculiarities of 10 
the latter, and his guileless simplicity, made him a butt for 
the broad waggery of some of his associates ; while others 
more polished, though equally perfidious, were on the watch-* 
to give currency to his bulls and blunders. 

The Stratford jubilee, in honor of Shakspeare, where Bos- 15 
well had made a fool of himself, was still in every one's 
mind. It was sportively suggested that a fete should be 
held at Litchfield in honor of Johnson and Garrick, and 
that the " Beaux Stratagem " should be played by the mem- 
bers of the Literary Club. "Then," exclaimed Goldsmith, 20 
" I shall certainly play Scrub. I should like of all things to 
try my hand at that character." The unwary speech, which 
any one else might have made without comment, has been 
thought worthy of record as whimsically characteristic. 
Beauclerc was extremely apt to circulate anecdotes at his 25 
expense, founded perhaps on some trivial incident, but 
dressed up with the embellishments of his sarcastic brain. 
One relates to a venerable dish of peas, served up at Sir 
Joshua's table, which should have been green, but were any 
other color. A wag suggested to Goldsmith, in a whisper, 30 
that they should be sent to Hammersmith, as that was the 
way to turn-em-gree7i (Turnham Green). Goldsmith, delighted 
with the pun, endeavored to repeat it at Burke's table, but 
missed the point. "That is the way to make 'em green," 



270 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

said he. Nobody laughed. He perceived he was at fault. 
"I mean that is the road to turn 'em green." A dead pause 
and a stare; — "whereupon," adds Beauclerc, "he started 
up disconcerted and abruptly left the table." This is evi- 
5 dently one of Beauclerc's caricatures. 

On another occasion the poet and Beauclerc were seated 
at the theatre next to Lord Shelburne, the minister, whom 
political writers thought proper to nickname Malagrida. 
" Do you know," said Goldsmith to his lordship, in the 

10 course of conversation, " that I never could conceive why 
they call you Malagrida, y^r Malagrida was a very good sort 
of man." This was too good a trip of the tongue for Beau- 
clerc to let pass : he serves it up in his next letter to Lord 
Charlemont, as a specimen of a mode of turning a thought 

15 the wrong way, peculiar to the poet ; he makes merry over 
it with his witty and sarcastic compeer, Horace Walpole, 
who pronounces it "a picture of Goldsmith's whole life." 
Dr. Johnson alone, when he hears it bandied about as Gold- 
smith's last blunder, growls forth a friendly defence : " Sir," 

20 said he, " it was a mere blunder in emphasis. He meant 
to say, I wonder they should use Malagrida as a term of 
reproach." Poor Goldsmith ! On such points he was ever 
doomed to be misinterpreted. Rogers, the poet, meeting 
in times long subsequent with a survivor from those days, 

25 asked him what Goldsmith really was in conversation. The 
old conventional character was too deeply stamped in the 
memory of the veteran to be effaced. " Sir," replied the 
old wiseacre, " he was a fool. The right word never came 
to him. If you gave him back a bad shilling, he 'd say, 

30 Why, it 's as good a shilling as ever was born. You know 
he ought to have said coined. Coined^ sir, never entered his 
head. He was a fool., sir.^' 

We have so many anecdotes in which Goldsmith's sim- 
plicity is played upon, that it is quite a treat to meet with 



BALLAD-SINGERS 271 

one in which he is represented playing upon the simpKcity 
of others, especially when the victim of his joke is the 
"Great Cham" himself, whom all others are disposed to 
hold so much in awe. Goldsmith and Johnson were sup- 
ping cosily together at a tavern in Dean Street, Soho, kept 5 
by Jack Roberts, a singer at Drury Lane, and a protege of 
Garrick's. Johnson delighted in these gastronomical tete-a~ 
tetes, and was expatiating in high good-humor on a dish of 
rumps and kidneys, the veins of his forehead swelling 
with the ardor of mastication. "These," said he, "are 10 
pretty little things ; but a man must eat a great many of 
them before he is filled." " Aye ; but how many of them," 
asked Goldsmith, with affected simplicity, " would reach 
to the moon.?" "To the moon! Ah, sir, that, I fear, 
exceeds your calculation." "Not at all, sir; I think I 15 
could tell." "Pray, then, sir, let us hear." "Why, sir, 
one, if it were long enough!'''' Johnson growled for a time 
at finding himself caught in such a trite schoolboy trap. 
" Well, sir," cried he at length, " I have deserved it. I 
should not have provoked so foolish an answer by so foolish 20 
a question." 

Among the many incidents related as illustrative of Gold- 
smith's vanity and envy is one which occurred one evening 
when he was in a drawing-room with a party of ladies, and 
a ballad-singer under the window struck up his favorite song 25 
of " Sally Salisbury." " How miserably this woman sings!" 
exclaimed he. " Pray, Doctor," said the lady of the house, 
" could you do it better ? " " Yes, madam, and the com- 
pany shall be judges." The company, of course, prepared 
to be entertained by an absurdity ; but their smiles were 30 
wellnigh turned to tears, for he acquitted himself with a 
skill and pathos that drew universal applause. He had, in 
fact, a delicate ear for music, which had been jarred by 
the false notes of the ballad-singer; and there were certain 



2/2 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

pathetic ballads, associated with recollections of his child- 
hood, which were sure to touch the springs of his heart. 
We have another story of him, connected with ballad-singing, 
which is still more characteristic. He was one evening at 
5 the house of Sir William Chambers, in Berners Street, seated 
at a whist-table with Sir William, Lady Chambers, and 
Baretti, when all at once he threw down his cards, hurried 
out of the room and into the street. He returned in an 
instant, resumed his seat, and the game went on. Sir Wil- 

10 liam, after a little hesitation, ventured to ask the cause of 
his retreat, fearing he had been overcome by the heat of the 
room. "Not at all," replied Goldsmith; "but in truth I 
could not bear to hear that unfortunate woman in the street, 
half singing, half sobbing, for such tones could only arise 

15 from the extremity of distress; her voice grated painfully 
on my ear and jarred my frame, so that I could not rest 
until I had sent her away." It was in fact a poor ballad- 
singer whose cracked voice had been heard by others of 
the party, but without having the same effect on their 

20 sensibilities. It was the reality of his fictitious scene in 
the story of the "Man in Black"; wherein he describes a 
woman in rags, with one child in her arms and another on 
her back, attempting to sing ballads, but with such a mourn- 
ful voice that it was difficult to determine whether she was 

25 singing or crying. " A wretch," he adds, " who, in the 
deepest distress, still aimed at good-humor, was an object 
my friend was by no means capable of withstanding." The 
"Man in Black" gave the poor woman all that he had — 
a bundle of matches. Goldsmith, it is probable, sent his 

30 ballad-singer away rejoicing, with all the money in his 
pocket. 

Ranelagh was at that time greatly in vogue as a place 
of public entertainment. It was situated near Chelsea; the 
principal room was a Rotunda of great dimensions, with an 



MASQUERADING 273 

orchestra in the centre, and tiers of boxes all round. It was 
a place to which Johnson resorted occasionally. " I am a 
great friend to public amusements," said he, " for they keep 
people from vice."^ Goldsmith was equally a friend to them, 
though perhaps not altogether on such moral grounds. He 5 
was particularly fond of masquerades, which were then 
exceedingly popular, and got up at Ranelagh with great 
expense and magnificence. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who had 
likewise a taste for such amusements, was sometimes his 
companion; at other times he went alone; his peculiarities 10 
of person and manner would soon betray him, whatever 
might be his disguise, and he would be singled out by wags, 
acquainted with his foibles, and more successful than him- 
self in maintaining their incognito, as a capital subject to be 
played upon. Some, pretending not to know him, would 15 
decry his writings, and praise those of his contemporaries ; 
others would laud his verses to the skies, but purposely 
misquote and burlesque them; others would annoy him 
with parodies ; while one young lady, whom he was teas- 
ing, as he supposed, with great success and infinite humor, 20 
silenced his rather boisterous laughter by quoting his own 
line about " the loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind." 
On one occasion he was absolutely driven out of the house 
by the persevering jokes of a wag, whose complete disguise 
gave him no means of retaliation. 25 

His name appearing in the newspapers among the distin- 
guished persons present at one of these amusements, his old 

1 " Alas, sir ! " said Johnson, speaking, when in another mood, of grand 
houses, fine gardens, and splendid places of public amusement ; " alas, sir ! these 
are only struggles for happiness. When I first entered Ranelagh it gave an 
expansion and gay sensation to my mind, such as I never experienced anywhere 
else. But, as Xerxes wept when he viewed his immense army, and considered 
that not one of that great multitude would be alive a hundred years afterwards, 
so it went to my heart to consider that there was not one in all that brilliant 
circle that was not afraid to go home and think." 



2/4 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

enemy, Kenrick, immediately addressed to him a copy of 
anonymous verses, to the following purport. 

TO DR. GOLDSMITH 

ON SEEING HIS NAME IN THE LIST OF MUMMERS AT THE LATE 
5 MASQUERADE 

" How widely different, Goldsmith, are the ways 
Of Doctors now, and those of ancient days ! 
Theirs taught the truth in academic shades, 
Ours in lewd hops and midnight masquerades. 

ID So changed the times ! say, philosophic sage. 

Whose genius suits so well this tasteful age, 
Is the Pantheon, late a sink obscene, 
Become the fountain of chaste Hippocrene ? 
Or do thy moral numbers quaintly flow, 

15 Inspired by th' Aga7tippe of Soho ? 

Do wisdom's sons gorge cates and vermicelli, 
Like beastly Bickerstaffe or bothering Kelly ? 
Or art thou tired of th' undeserved applause, 
Bestowed on bards affecting Virtue's cause .'' 

20 Is this the good that makes the humble vain, 



The good philosophy should not disdain .? 

If so, let pride dissemble all it can, 

A modern sage is still much less than man." 

Goldsmith w^s keenly sensitive to attacks of the kind, 

25 and meeting Kenrick at the Chapter Coffee-House, called 

him to sharp account for taking such liberty with his name, 

and calling his morals in question, merely on account of his 

being seen at a place of general resort and amusement. 

Kenrick shuffled and sneaked, protesting that he meant 

30 nothing derogatory to his private character. Goldsmith let 

him know, however, that he was aware of his having more 

than once indulged in attacks of this dastard kind, and 

intimated that anpther such outrage would be followed by 

personal chastisement. 

35 Kenrick, having played the craven in his presence, avenged 

himself as soon as he was gone by complaining of his having 



NOVEL MODE OF EXERCISE 2/5 

made a wanton attack upon him, and by making coarse com- 
ments upon his writings, conversation, and person. 

The scurrilous satire of Kenrick, however unmerited, may 
have checked Goldsmith's taste for masquerades. Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, calling on the poet one morning, found him walk- s 
ing about his room in somewhat of a reverie, kicking a bundle 
of clothes before him like a football. It proved to be an 
expensive masquerade dress, which he said he had been fool 
enough to purchase, and as there was no other way of get- 
ting the worth of his money, he was trying to take it out in lo 
exercise. 

TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Do you pity the Goldsmith of this chapter? 

2. Was Goldsmith vain ? 

3. Does irving's attitude to Boswell when he says that Boswell 
" made a fool of himself " appear biased ? 

4. Give illustrations from your ov^n experience of failures to re-tell 
jokes so that the point would be plain. 

5. Anecdotes dealing with Goldsmith's simplicity. 

6. Goldsmith's gay life as depicted in Chapters XXXV and XXXVI. 



CHAPTER XXXVI 

Invitation to Christmas — The Spring- Velvet Coat — The Haymaking Wig — 
The Mischances of Loo — The Fair Culprit — A Dance with the Jessamy 
Bride. 

From the feverish dissipations of town, Goldsmith is sum- 
moned away to partake of the genial dissipations of the 
country. In the month of December, a letter from Mrs. 
Bunbury invites him down to Barton, to pass the Christmas 
5 holidays. The letter is written in the usual playful vein 
which marks his intercourse with this charming family. He 
is to come in his " smart spring-velvet coat," to bring a new 
wig to dance with the haymakers in, and above all to follow 
the advice of herself and her sister, (the Jessamy Bride,) in 

10 playing loo. This letter, which plays so archly, yet kindly, 
with some of poor Goldsmith's peculiarities, and bespeaks 
such real lady-like regard for him, requires a word or two of 
annotation. The spring-velvet suit alluded to appears to 
have been a gallant adornment, (somewhat in the style of 

15 the famous bloom-colored coat,) in which Goldsmith had fig- 
ured in the preceding month of May — the season of blos- 
soms, for, on the 21st of that month, we find the following 
entry in the chronicle of Mr. William Filby, tailor: To your 
blue velvet suit, £2\ \os. 9^. Also, about the same time, a 

20 suit of livery and a crimson collar for the serving-man. 
Again we hold the Jessamy Bride responsible for this gor- 
geous splendor of wardrobe. 

The new wig no doubt is a bag-wig and solitaire, still 
highly the mode, and in which Goldsmith is represented as 

25 figuring when in full dress equipped Vv^ith his sword, 

276 



THE SPRING-VELVET COAT 277 

As to the dancing with the haymakers, we presume it 
alludes to some gambol of the poet, in the course of his 
former visit to Barton ; when he ranged the fields and lawns 
a chartered libertine, and tumbled into the fish-ponds. 

As to the suggestions about loo, they are in sportive allu- 5 
sion to the Doctor's mode of playing that game in their 
merry evening parties; affecting the desperate gambler and 
easy dupe ; running counter to all rule ; making extravagant 
ventures ; reproaching all others with cowardice; dashing at 
all hazards at the pool, and getting himself completely loo'd, 10 
to the great amusement of the company. The drift of the 
fair sisters' advice was most probably to tempt him on, and 
then leave him in the lurch. 

With these comments we subjoin Goldsmith's reply to 
Mrs. Bunbury, a fine piece of off-hand, humorous writing, 15 
which has but in late years been given to the public, and 
which throws a familiar light on the social circle at Barton. 

" Madam, — I read your letter with all that allowance 
which critical candor could require, but after all find so 
much to object to, and so much to raise my indignation, 20 
that I cannot help giving it a serious answer. — I am not so 
ignorant, madam, as not to see there are many sarcasms 
contained in it, and solecisms also. (Solecism is a word 
that comes from the town of Soleis in Attica, among the 
Greeks, built by Solon, and applied as we use the word 25 
Kidderminster for curtains from a town also of that name; — 
but this is learning you have no taste for !) — I say, madam, 
that there are many sarcasms in it, and solecisms also. But 
not to seem an ill-natured critic, I '11 take leave to quote your 
own words, and give you my remarks upon them as they 30 
occur. You begin as follows : — 

" ' I hope, my good Doctor, you soon will be here, 
And your spring-velvet coat very smart will appear, 
To open our ball the first day of the year.' 



278 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

" Pray, madam, where did you ever find the epithet 'good,' 
applied to the title of doctor? Had you called me ' learned 
doctor,' or 'grave doctor,' or 'noble doctor,' it might be 
allowable, because they belong to the profession. But, not 
5 to cavil at trifles, you talk of my ' spring-velvet coat,' and 
advise me to wear it the first day in the year, that is, in the 
middle of winter ! — a spring-velvet coat in the middle of 
winter ! ! ! That would be a solecism indeed ! and yet to 
increase the inconsistency, in another part of your letter you 
10 call me a beau. Now, on one side or other, you must be 
wrong. If I am a beau, I can never think of wearing a 
spring-velvet in winter; and if I am not a beau, why then, 
that explains itself. But let me go on to your two next 
strange lines : — 

15 *' ' And bring with you a wig, that is modish and gay, 

To dance with the girls that are maimers of hay.' 

" The absurdity of making hay at Christmas you your- 
self seem sensible of: you say your sister will laugh; and so 
indeed she well may ! The Latins have an expression for 

20 a contemptuous kind of laughter, ' naso contemnere adunco '; 
that is, to laugh with a crooked nose. She may laugh at 
you in the manner of the ancients if she thinks fit. But 
now I come to the most extraordinary of all extraordinary 
propositions, — which is, to take your and your sister's 

25 advice in playing at loo. The presumption of the oifer 
raises my indignation beyond the bounds of prose; it 
inspires me at once with verse and resentment. I take 
advice ! and from whom ? You shall hear. 

" First let me suppose, what may shortly be true, 
30 The company set, and the word to be Loo : 

All smirking, and pleasant, and big with adventure, 
And ogling the stake which is fix'd in the centre. 
Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn 
At never once finding a visit from Pam. 



LETTER TO MRS. BUNBURY 279 

I lay down my stake, apparently cool, 

While the harpies about me all pocket the pool. 

I fret in my gizzard, yet, cautious and sly, 

I wish all my friends may be bolder than I : 

Yet still they sit snug, not a creature will aim 5 

By losing their money to venture at fame. 

'T is in vain that at niggardly caution I scold, 

'Tis in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold : 

All play their own way, and they think me an ass, — 

' What does Mrs. Bunbury.?' . . ' I, Sir ? I pass.' 10 

' Pray what does Miss Horneck.? take courage, come do,' — 

' Who, I ? — let me see, sir, why I must pass too.' 

Mr. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil, 

To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil. 

Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on, 15 

Till, made by my losses as bold as a lion, 

I venture at all, while my avarice regards 

The whole pool as my own. . . ' Come, give me five cards.' 

* Well done ! ' cry the ladies ; ' ah, Doctor, that 's good ! 

The pool 's very rich, . . ah ! the Doctor is loo'd ! ' 20 

Thus foil'd in my courage, on all sides perplext, 
I ask for advice from the lady that 's next : 

* Pray, ma'am, be so good as to give your advice; 
Don't you think the best way is to venture for 't twice ? ' 

* I advise,' cries the lady, ' to try it, I own. . . 25 
Ah ! the Doctor is loo'd ! Come, Doctor, put down.' 

Thus, playing, and playing, I still grow more eager, 

And so bold, and so bold, I 'm at last a bold beggar. 

Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you 're skill'd in. 

Whether crimes such as yours should not come before Fielding: 30 

For giving advice that is not worth a straw. 

May well be call'd picking of pockets in law ; 

And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye, 

Is, by quinto Elizabeth, Death without Clergy. 

What justice, when both to the Old Bailey brought ! ' 35 

By the gods, I '11 enjoy it, tho' 'tis but in thought ! 

Both are plac'd at the bar, with all proper decorum, 

With bunches of fennel, and nosegays before 'em ; 

Both cover their faces with mobs and all that. 

But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat. 40 

When uncover'd, a buzz of inquiry runs round. 



28o OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

* Pray what are their crimes ? ' . . 'They 've been pilfering found.' 
' But, pray, who have they pilfer'd ? ' . . 'A doctor, I hear.' 
' What, yon solemn-faced, odd-looking man that stands near ? ' 
' The same.' . . ' What a pity ! how does it surprise one, 
5 Two handsomer culprits I ttever set eyes on I ' 

Then their friends all come round me with cringing and leering. 

To melt me to pity, and soften my swearing. 

First Sir Charles' advances with phrases well-strung, 

' Consider, dear Doctor, the girls are but young.' 

lo 'The younger the worse,' I return him again, 

' It shows that their habits are all dyed in grain.' 
' But then they 're so handsome, one's bosom it grieves.' 
' What signifies handsome, when people are thieves?' 
' But where is your justice ? their cases are hard.' 

15 ' What signifies ywi-ZzV^ .? I want the reward. 

" ' There 's the parish of Edmonton offers forty pounds ; 

there 's the parish of St. Leonard Shoreditch offers forty 

pounds ; there 's the parish of Tyburn, from the Hog-in- 

the-pound to St. Giles's watch-house, offers forty pounds, — 

20 I shall have all that if I convict them ! ' — 

" ' But consider their case, . . it may yet be your own ! 
And see how they kneel ! Is your heart made of stone .? ' 
This moves : . . so at last I agree to relent. 
For ten pounds in hand, and ten pounds to be spent. 

25 " I challenge you all to answer this : I tell you, you can- 
not. It cuts deep. But now for the rest of the letter : and 
next — but I want room — so I believe I shall battle the 
rest out at Barton some day next week. — I don't value 
you all ! O. G." 

30 We regret that we have no record of this Christmas visit 
to Barton ; that the poet had no Bos well to follow at his 
heels, and take note of all his sayings and doings. We 
can only picture him in our minds, casting off all care; 
enacting the lord of misrule; presiding at the Christmas 



DANCE WITH THE JESSAMY BRIDE 281 

revels ; providing all kinds of merriment ; keeping the card- 
table in an uproar, and finally opening the ball on the first 
day of the year in his spring-velvet suit, with the Jessamy 
Bride for a partner. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. How do Goldsmith's letters to his friends compare with most of 
the letters sent from one friend to another in the circle of your 
acquaintance ? 

2. Is Irving consistent in blaming Boswell for being a prying, 
inquisitive person, and then wishing there had been a Boswell at Barton 
to record Goldsmith's sayings and doings during his Christmas visit ? 



CHAPTER XXXVII 

Theatrical Delays — Negotiations with Colman — Letter to Garrick — Croaking 
of the Manager — Naming of the Play — " She Stoops to Conquer " — Foote's 
Primitive Puppet-Show, " Piety in Pattens " — First Performance of the 
Comedy — Agitation of the Author — Success — Colman Squibbed out of 
Town. 

The gay life depicted in the two last chapters, while it 
kept Goldsmith in a state of continual excitement, aggra- 
vated the malady which was impairing his constitution ; yet 
his increasing perplexities in money-matters drove him to 
5 the dissipation of society as a relief from solitary care. 
The delays of the theatre added to those perplexities. He 
had long since finished his new comedy, yet the year 1772 
passed away without his being able to get it on the stage. 
No one, uninitiated in the interior of a theatre, that little 

10 world of traps and tricker)^, can have any idea of the 
obstacles and perplexities multiplied in the way of the most 
eminent and successful author by the mismanagement 
of managers, the jealousies and intrigues of rival authors, 
and the fantastic and impertinent caprices of actors. A 

15 long and baffling negotiation was carried on between Gold- 
smith and Colman, the manager of Covent Garden; who 
retained the play in his hands until the middle of January, 
(1773,) without coming to a decision. The theatrical sea- 
son was rapidly passing away, and Goldsmith's pecuniary 

20 difficulties were augmenting and pressing on him. We may 
judge of his anxiety by the following letter : — 

^ ''To George Cohtan, Esq. 

UEAR oIR, 

" I entreat you '11 relieve me from that state of suspense 
25 in which I have been kept for a long time. Whatever 

282 



NEGOTIATIONS WITH COLMAN 283 

objections you have made or shall make to my play, I will 
endeavor to remove and not argue about them. To bring 
in any new judges either of its merits or faults I can never 
submit to. Upon a former occasion, when my other play 
was before Mr. Garrick, he offered to bring me before Mr. 5 
Whitehead's tribunal, but I refused the proposal with indig- 
nation : I hope I shall not experience as harsh treatment 
from you as from him. I have, as you know, a large sum 
of money to make up shortly ; by accepting my play, I can 
readily satisfy my creditor that way ; at any rate, I must 10 
look about to some certainty to be prepared. For God's 
sake take the play, and let us make the best of it, and 
let me have the same measure, at least, which you have 
given as bad plays as mine. 

"I am your friend and servant, 15 

" Oliver Goldsmith." 

Colman returned the manuscript with the blank sides of 
the leaves scored with disparaging comments, and suggested 
alterations, but with the intimation that the faith of the 
theatre should be kept, and the play acted notwithstanding. 20 
Goldsmith submitted the criticisms to some of his friends, 
who pronounced them trivial, unfair, and contemptible, and 
intimated that Colman, being a dramatic writer himself, 
might be actuated by jealousy. The play was then sent, 
with Colman's comments written on it, to Garrick; but he 25 
had scarce sent it when Johnson interfered, represented the 
evil that might result from an apparent rejection of it by 
Covent Garden, and undertook to go forthwith to Colman, 
and have a talk with him on the subject. Goldsmith, there- 
fore, penned the following note to Garrick: — 30 

" Dear Sir, — 

" I ask many pardons for the trouble I gave you yester- 
day. Upon more mature deliberation, and the advice of 



284 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

a sensible friend, I began to think it indelicate in me to 
throw upon you the odium of confirming Mr. Colman's sen- 
tence. I therefore request you will send my play back by 
my servant ; for having been assured of having it acted at 
5 the other house, though I confess yours in every respect 
more to my wish, yet it would be folly in me to forego an 
advantage which lies in my power of appealing from Mr. 
Colman's opinion to the judgment of the town. I entreat, 
if not too late, you will keep this affair a secret for some 
10 time. "I am, dear Sir, your very humble servant, 

" Oliver Goldsmith." 

The negotiation of Johnson with the manager of Covent 
Garden was effective. " Colman," he says, "was prevailed 
on at last, by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force," to 

15 bring forward the comedy. Still the manager was ungen- 
erous, or at least indiscreet enough to express his opin- 
ion that it would not reach a second representation. The 
plot, he said, was bad, and the interest not sustained; "it 
dwindled, and dwindled, and at last went out like the snuff 

20 of a candle." The effect of his croaking was soon appar- 
ent within the walls of the theatre. Two of the most popu- 
lar actors. Woodward and Gentleman Smith, to whom the 
parts of Tony Lumpkin and Young Marlow were assigned, 
refused to act them; one of them alleging, in excuse, the 

25 evil predictions of the manager. Goldsmith was advised 
to postpone the performance of his play until he could get 
these important parts well supplied. "No," said he, "I 
would sooner that my play were damned by bad players 
than merely saved by good acting." 

30 Quick was substituted for Woodward in Tony Lumpkin, 
and Lee Lewis, the harlequin of the theatre, for Gentleman 
Smith in Young Marlow; and both did justice to their 
parts. 



• CROAKING OF COLMAN 285 

• 

Great interest was taken by Goldsmith's friends in the 
success of his piece. The rehearsals were attended by 
Johnson, Cradock, Murphy, Reynolds and his sister, and 
the whole Horneck connection, including, of course, the 
Jessamy Bride, whose presence may have contributed to 5 
flutter the anxious heart of the author. The rehearsals 
went off with great applause ; but that Colman attributed 
to the partiality of friends. He continued to croak, and 
refused to risk any expense in new scenery or dresses on 
a play which he was sure would prove a failure. 10 

The time was at hand for the first representation, and 
as yet the comedy was without a title. " We are all in 
labor for a name for Goldy's play," said Johnson, who, as 
usual, took a kind of fatherly protecting interest in poor 
Goldsmith's affairs. "The Old House a New Inn" was 15 
thought of for a time, but still did not please. Sir Joshua 
Reynolds proposed " The Belle's Stratagem," an elegant 
title, but not considered applicable, the perplexities of the 
comedy being produced by the mistake of the hero, not 
the stratagem of the heroine. The name was afterwards 20 
adopted by Mrs. Cowley for one of her comedies. " The 
Mistakes of a Night " was the title at length fixed upon, 
to which Goldsmith prefixed the words, " She Stoops to 
Conquer." 

The evil bodings of Colman still continued : they were 25 
even communicated in the box-office to the servant of the 
Duke of Gloucester, who was sent to engage a box. Never 
did the play of a popular writer struggle into existence 
through more difficulties. 

In the mean time Foote's " Primitive Puppet-Show," en- 30 
titled the '' Handsome Housemaid, or Piety in Pattens," 
had been brought out at the Haymarket on the 15th of 
February. All the world, fashionable and unfashionable, 
had crowded to the theatre. The street was thronged with 



286 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

equipages, — the doors were stormed by the mob. The bur- 
lesque was completely successful, and sentimental comedy 
received its quietus. Even Garrick, who had recently be- 
friended it, now gave it a kick, as he saw it going down- 
5 hill, and sent Goldsmith a humorous prologue to help his 
comedy of the opposite school. Garrick and Goldsmith, 
however, were now on very cordial terms, to which the 
social meetings in the circle of the Hornecks and Bunburys 
may have contributed. 

lo On the 15th of March the new comedy was to be per- 
formed. Those who had stood up for its merits, and been 
irritated and disgusted by the treatment it had received 
from the manager, determined to muster their forces, and 
aid in giving it a good launch upon the town. The par- 

15 ticulars of this confederation, and of its triumphant success, 
are amusingly told by Cumberland in his memoirs. 

"We were not over-sanguine of success, but perfectly 
determined to struggle hard for our author. We accord- 
ingly assembled our strength at the Shakspeare Tavern, in a 

20 considerable body, for an early dinner, where Samuel Johnson 
took the chair at the head of a long table, and was the life 
and soul of the corps ; the poet took post silently by his side, 
with the Burkes, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Fitzherbert, Caleb 
Whitefoord, and a phalanx of North British, predetermined 

25 applauders, under the banner of Major Mills, — all good 
men and true. Our illustrious president was in inimitable 
glee ; and poor Goldsmith that day took all his raillery as 
patiently and complacently as my friend Boswell would 
have done any day or every day of his life. In the mean 

30 time we did not forget our duty ; and though we had a better 
comedy going, in which Johnson was chief actor, we betook 
ourselves in good time to our separate and allotted posts, 
and waited the awful drawing up of the curtain. As our 
stations were preconcerted, so were our signals for plaudits 



A LAUGHING FUGLEMAN 28/ 

arranged and determined upon in a manner that gave every 
one his cue where to look for them, and how to follow 
them up. 

" We had among us a very worthy and efficient member, 
long since lost to his friends and the world at large, Adam 5 
Drummond, of amiable memory, who was gifted by nature 
with the most sonorous, and at the same time the most 
contagious laugh that ever echoed from the human lungs. 
The neighing of the horse of the son of Hystaspes was a 
whisper to it ; the whole thunder of the theatre could not 10 
drown it. This kind and ingenious friend fairly forewarned 
us that he knew no more when to give his fire than the can- 
non did that was planted on a battery. He desired, there- 
fore, to have a flapper at his elbow, and I had the honor to 
be deputed to that office. I planted him in an upper box, 15 
pretty nearly over the stage, in full view of the pit and gal- 
leries, and perfectly well situated to give the echo all its 
play through the hollows and recesses of the theatre. The 
success of our manoeuvre was complete. All eyes were upon 
Johnson, who sat in a front row of a side-box ; and when he 20 
laughed, everybody thought themselves warranted to roar. 
In the mean time, my friend followed signals with a rattle 
so irresistibly comic, that, when he had repeated it several 
times, the attention of the spectators was so engrossed by 
his person and performances, that the progress of the play 25 
seemed likely to become a secondary object, and I found it 
prudent to insinuate to him that he might halt his music 
without any prejudice to the author ; but alas ! it was now 
too late to rein him in ; he had laughed upon my signal 
where he found no joke, and now, unluckily, he fancied that 30 
he found a joke in almost everything that was said ; so that 
nothing in nature could be more mal-apropos than some of 
his bursts every now and then were. These were dangerous 
moments, for the pit began to take umbrage ; but we carried 



288 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

our point through, and triumphed not only over Colman's 
judgment, but our own." 

Much of this statement has been condemned as exagger- 
ated or discolored. Cumberland's memoirs have generally 
5 been characterized as partaking of romance, and in the 
present instance he had particular motives for tampering 
with the truth. He was a dramatic writer himself, jeal- 
ous of the success of a rival, and anxious to have it attrib- 
uted to the private management of friends. According to 

lo various accounts, public and private, such management was 
unnecessary, for the piece was " received throughout with 
the greatest acclamations." 

Goldsmith, in the present instance, had not dared, as on 
a former occasion, to be present at the first performance. 

15 He had been so overcome by his apprehensions that, at the 
preparatory dinner, he could hardly utter a word, and was 
so choked that he could not swallow a mouthful. When his 
friends trooped to the theatre, he stole away to St. James's 
Park : there he was found by a friend, between seven and 

20 eight o'clock, wandering up and down the Mall like a troubled 
spirit. With difficulty he was persuaded to go to the thea- 
tre, where his presence might be important should any alter- 
ation be necessary. He arrived at the opening of the fifth 
act, and made his way behind the scenes. Just as he entered 

25 there was a slight hiss at the improbability of Tony Lump- 
kin's trick on his mother, in persuading her she was forty 
miles off, on Crackskull Common, though she had been 
trundled about on her own grounds. " What 's that ? what 's 
that ! " cried Goldsmith to the manager, in great agitation. 

30 " Pshaw ! Doctor," replied Colman, sarcastically, " don't be 
frightened at a squib, when we 've been sitting these two 
hours on a barrel of gunpowder ! " Though of a most for- 
giving nature, Goldsmith did not easily forget this ungra- 
cious and ill-timed sally. 



SQUIBS AND CRACKERS 289 

If Colman was indeed actuated by the paltry motives 
ascribed to him in his treatment of this play, he was most 
amply punished by its success, and by the taunts, epigrams, 
and censures levelled at him through the press, in which his 
false prophecies were jeered at, his critical judgment called 5 
in question, and he was openly taxed with literary jealousy. 
So galling and unremitting was the fire, that he at length 
wrote to Goldsmith, entreating him "to take him off the 
rack of the newspapers"; in the mean time, to escape the 
laugh that was raised about him in the theatrical world of 10 
London, he took refuge in Bath during the triumphant career 
of the comedy. 

The following is one of the many squibs which assailed 
the ears of the manager : — 

TO GEORGE COLMAN, ESQ. 15 

ON THE SUCCESS OF DR. GOLDSMITH'S NEW COMEDY 

" Come, Coley, doff those mourning weeds, 
Nor thus with jokes be flamm'd ; 
Tho' Goldsmith's present play succeeds, 

His next may still be damn'd. 20 

As this has 'scaped without a fall, 

To sink his next prepare ; 
New actors hire from Wapping Wall 

And dresses from Rag Fair. 

For scenes let tatter'd blankets fly, 25 

The prologue Kelly write; 
Then swear again the piece must die 

Before the author's night. 

Should these tricks fail, the lucky elf, 

To bring to lasting shame, 30 

E'en write the best you can yourself , 

And print it in his name.^^ 



290 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

The solitary hiss, which had startled Goldsmith, was 
ascribed by some of the newspaper scribblers to Cumber- 
land himself, who was "manifestly miserable" at the de- 
light of the audience, or to Ossian Macpherson, who was 
5 hostile to the whole Johnson clique, or to Goldsmith's dra- 
matic rival, Kelly. The following is one of the epigrams 
which appeared: — 

" At Dr. Goldsmith's merry play, 
All the spectators laugh, they say; 
10 The assertion, sir, I must deny, 

For Cumberland and Kelly cry. 

Ride, si sap is ^ 

Another, addressed to Goldsmith, alludes to Kelly's early 
apprenticeship to stay-making : — 

15 "If Kelly finds fault with the shape of your muse, 

And thinks that too loosely it plays. 
He surely, dear Doctor, will never refuse 
To make it a new Pair of Stays ! " 

Cradock had returned to the country before the produc- 
20 tion of the play; the following letter, written just after the 
performance, gives an additional picture of the thorns which 
beset an author in the path of theatrical literature : — 

" My dear Sir, — 

" The play has met with a success much beyond your 

25 expectations or mine. I thank you sincerely for your epi- 
logue, which, however, could not be used, but with your 
permission shall be printed. The story in short is this. 
Murphy sent me rather the outline of an epilogue than an 
epilogue, which was to be sung by Mrs. Catley, and which 

30 she approved ; Mrs. Bulkley, hearing this, insisted on throw- 
ing up her part " (J/»j- Hardcastle) "unless, according to 
the custom of the theatre, she were permitted to speak the 
epilogue. In this embarrassment I thought of making a 



CRITICAL OPINIONS 291 

quarrelling epilogue between Catley and her, debating who 
should speak the epilogue ; but then Mrs. Catley refused 
after I had taken the trouble of drawing it out. I was then 
at a loss indeed; an epilogue was to be made, and for none 
but Mrs. Bulkley. I made one, and Colman thought it too 5 
bad to be spoken ; I was obliged, therefore, to try a fourth 
time, and I made a very mawkish thing, as you '11 shortly see. 
Such is the history of my stage adventures, and which I 
have at last done with. I cannot help saying that I am very 
sick of the stage ; and though I believe I shall get three 10 
tolerable benefits, yet I shall, on the whole, be a loser, even 
in a pecuniary light ; my ease and comfort I certainly lost 
while it was in agitation. 

" I am, my dear Cradock, your obliged and obedient 
servant, "Oliver Goldsmith. 15 

" P. S. — Present my most humble respects to Mrs. 
Cradock." 

Johnson, who had taken such a conspicuous part in pro- 
moting the interest of poor " Goldy," was triumphant at the 
success of the piece. " I know of no comedy for many 20 
years," said he, "that has so much exhilarated an audience; 
that has answered so much the great end of comedy — 
making an audience merry." 

Goldsmith was happy, also, in gleaning applause from 
less authoritative sources. Nbrthcote, the painter, then a 25 
youthful pupil of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and Ralph, Sir 
Joshua's confidential man, had taken their stations in the 
gallery to lead the applause in that quarter. Goldsmith 
asked Northcote's opinion of the play. The youth modestly 
declared he could not presume to judge in such matters. 30 
" Did it make you laugh ? " "Oh, exceedingly ! " " That 
is all I require," replied Goldsmith ; and rewarded him for 
his criticism by box-tickets for his first benefit-night. 



292 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

The comedy was immediately put to press, and dedi- 
cated to Johnson in the following grateful and affectionate 
terms : — 

'' In inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not 
5 mean so much to compliment you as myself. It may do me 
some honor to inform the public that I have lived many 
years in intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of 
mankind also to inform them, that the greatest wit may be 
found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected 

10 piety." 

The copyright was transferred to Mr. Newbery, accord- 
ing to agreement, whose profits on the sale of the work far 
exceeded the debts for which the author in his perplexities 
had preengaged it. The sum which accrued to Goldsmith 

1 5. from his benefit-nights afforded but a slight palliation of his 
pecuniary difficulties. His friends, while they exulted in 
his success, little knew of his continually increasing embar- 
rassments, and of the anxiety of mind which kept tasking 
his pen while it impaired the ease and freedom of spirit 

20 necessary to felicitous composition. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Relate why Goldsmith should be "sick of the stage." 

2. Are persons ever hired in these days to applaud a play on its first 
presentation ? 

3. The first performance of " She Stoops to Conquer." 



CHAPTER XXXVIII 

A Newspaper Attack — The Evans Affray — Johnson's Comment. 

The triumphant success of " She Stoops to Conquer " 
brought forth, of course, those carpings and cavillings of 
underling scribblers, which are the thorns and briers in the 
path of successful authors. Goldsmith, though easily nettled 
by attacks of the kind, was at present too well satisfied with 5 
the reception of his comedy to heed them ; but the following 
anonymous letter, which appeared in a public paper, was 
not to be taken with equal equanimity : — 

{For the London Packet^ 
"TO DR. GOLDSMITH. lo 

" Voiis vous noyez par vanite. 

" Sir, — The happy knack which you have learned of 
puffing your own compositions provokes me to come forth. 
You have not been the editor of newspapers and magazines 
not to discover the trick of literary humbug ; but the gauze 15 
is so thin that the very foolish part of the world see through 
it, and discover the doctor's monkey-face and cloven foot. 
Your poetic vanity is as unpardonable as your personal. 
Would man believe it, and will woman bear it, to be told 
that for hours the great Goldsmith will stand surveying his 20 
grotesque orang-outang's figure in a pier-glass ? Was but 
the lovely H — k as much enamored, you would not sigh, 
my gentle swain, in vain. But your vanity is preposterous. 
How will this same bard of Bedlam ring the changes in the 
praise of Goldy ! But what has he to be either proud or 25 
vain of? 'The Traveller' is a flimsy poem, built upon false 

293 



294 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

principles — principles diametrically opposite to liberty. 
What is 'The Good-natured Man' but a poor, water-gruel 
dramatic dose ? What is ' The Deserted Village ' but a 
pretty poem of easy numbers, without fancy, dignity, genius, 
5 or fire ? And, pray, what may be the last speaking panto- 
mime, so praised by the Doctor himself, but an incoherent 
piece of stuff, the figure of a woman with a fish's tail, with- 
out plot, incident, or intrigue ? We are made to laugh at 
stale, dull jokes, wherein we mistake pleasantry for wit, and 

10 grimace for humor ; wherein every scene is unnatural and 
inconsistent with the rules, the laws of nature and of the 
drama ; viz : two gentlemen come to a man of fortune's 
house, eat, drink, &c., and take it for an inn. The one is 
intended as a lover for the daughter ; he talks with her for 

15 some hours; and, when he sees her again in a different 
dress, he treats her as a bar-girl, and swears she squinted. 
He abuses the master of the house, and threatens to kick 
him out of his own doors. The squire, whom we are told 
is to be a fool, proves to be the most sensible being of the 

20 piece; and he makes out a whole act by bidding his mother 
lie close behind a bush, persuading her that his father, her 
own husband, is a highwayman, and that he has come to 
cut their throats ; and, to give his cousin an opportunity 
to go oiT, he drives his mother over hedges, ditches, and 

25 through ponds. There is not, sweet, sucking Johnson, a 
natural stroke in the whole play but the young fellow's giv- 
ing the stolen jewels to the mother, supposing her to be the 
landlady. That Mr. Colman did no justice to this piece, 
I honestly allow ; that he told all his friends it would be 

30 damned, I positively aver ; and, from such ungenerous 
insinuations, without a dramatic merit, it rose to public 
notice, and it is now the ton to go and see it, though I 
never saw a person that either liked it or approved it, any 
more than the absurd plot of Home's tragedy of ' Alonzo.' 



NEWSPAPER ATTACK 295 

Mr. Goldsmith, correct your arrogance, reduce your vanity, 
and endeavor to believe, as a man, you are of the plainest 
sort, — and as an author, but a mortal piece of mediocrity. 

" Brise le miroir infidele 
Qui vous cache la verite. 5 

"Tom Tickle." 

It would be difficult to devise a letter more calculated to 
wound the peculiar sensibilities of Goldsmith. The attacks 
upon him as an author, though annoying enough, he could 
have tolerated; but then the allusion to his "grotesque" 10 
person, to his studious attempts to adorn it ; and, above all, 
to his being an unsuccessful admirer of the lovely H — k 
(the Jessamy Bride), struck rudely upon the most sensitive 
part of his highly sensitive nature. The paragraph, it is 
said, was first pointed out to him by an officious friend, an 15 
Irishman, who told him he was bound in honor to resent 
it ; but he needed no such prompting. He was in a high 
state of excitement and indignation, and, accompanied by 
his friend, who is said to have been a Captain Higgins, of 
the marines, he repaired to Paternoster Row, to the shop 20 
of Evans, the publisher, whom he supposed to be the edi- 
tor of the paper. Evans was summoned by his shopman 
from an adjoining room. Goldsmith announced his name. 
" I have called," added he, " in consequence of a scurrilous 
attack made upon me, and an unwarrantable liberty taken 25 
with the name of a young lady. As for myself, I care little ; 
but her name must not be sported with." 

Evans professed utter ignorance of the matter, and said 
he would speak to the editor. He stooped to examine a file 
of the paper, in search of the offensive article ; whereupon 30 
Goldsmith's friend gave him a signal, that now was a favor- 
able moment for the exercise of his cane. The hint was 
taken as quick as given, and the cane was vigorously applied 



296 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

to the back of the stooping publisher. The latter rallied 
in an instant, and, being a stout, high-blooded Welshman, 
returned the blows with interest. A lamp hanging overhead 
was broken, and sent down a shower of oil upon the com- 
5 batants; but the battle raged with unceasing fury. The 
shopman ran off for a constable ; but Dr. Kenrick, who hap- 
pened to be in the adjacent room, sallied forth, interfered 
between the combatants, and put an end to the affray. He 
conducted Goldsmith to a coach, in exceedingly battered 
10 and tattered plight, and accompanied him home, soothing 
him with much mock commiseration, though he was gen- 
erally suspected, and on good grounds, to be the author of 
the libel. 

Evans immediately instituted a suit against Goldsmith 
15 for an assault, but was ultimately prevailed upon to com- 
promise the matter, the poet contributing fifty pounds to 
the Welsh charity. 

Newspapers made themselves, as may well be supposed, 
exceedingly merry with the combat. Some censured him 
20 severely for invading the sanctity of a man's own house; 
others accused him of having, in his former capacity of 
editor of a magazine, been guilty of the very offences that 
he now resented in others. This drew from him the fol- 
lowing vindication: — 
25 " To the Public. 

" Lest it should be supposed that I have been willing to 
correct in others an abuse of which I have been guilty myself, 
I beg leave to declare, that, in all my life, I never wrote or 
dictated a single paragraph, letter, or essay in a newspaper, 
30 except a few moral essays under the character of a Chinese, 
about ten years ago, in the ' Ledger,' and a letter, to which I 
signed my name, in the ' St James's Chronicle.' If the lib- 
erty of the press, therefore, has been abused, I have had no 
hand in it. 



THE VINDICATION 297 

" I have always considered the press as the protector of 
our freedom, as a watchful guardian, capable of uniting the 
weak against the encroachments of power. What concerns 
the public most properly admits of a public discussion. But, 
of late, the press has turned from defending public interest 5 
to making inroads upon private life ; from combating the 
strong to overwhelming the feeble. No condition is now 
too obscure for its abuse and the protector has become the 
tyrant of the people. In this manner the freedom of the 
press is -beginning to sow the seeds of its own dissolution; 10 
the great must oppose it from principle, and the weak from 
fear; till at last every rank of mankind shall be found to 
give up its benefits, content with security from insults. 

" How to put a stop to this licentiousness, by which all 
are indiscriminately abused, and by which vice consequently 15 
escapes in the general censure, I am unable to tell ; all I 
could wish is, that, as the law gives us no protection against 
the injury, so it should give calumniators no shelter after hav- 
ing provoked correction. The insults which we receive before 
the public, by being more open, are the more distressing; 20 
by treating them with silent contempt we do not pay a suf- 
ficient deference to the opinion of the world. By recurring 
to legal redress we too often expose the weakness of the law, 
which only serves to increase our mortification by failing to 
relieve us. In short, every man should singly consider him- 25 
self as the guardian of the liberty of the press, and, as far 
as his influence can extend, should endeavor to prevent its 
licentiousness becoming at last the grave of its freedom. 

"Oliver Goldsmith." 

Boswell, who had just arrived in town, met with this article 30 
in a newspaper which he found at Dr. Johnson's. The Doc- 
tor was from home at the time, and Bozzy and Mrs. Williams, 
in a critical conference over the letter, determined from the 



298 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Style that it must have been written by the lexicographer 
himself. The latter on his return soon undeceived them. 
" Sir," said he to Boswell, "Goldsmith would no more have 
asked me to have wrote such a thing as that for him than he 
would have asked me to feed him with a spoon, or do any- 
thing else that denoted his imbecility. Sir, had he shown it 
to any one friend, he would not have been allowed to publish 
it.' He has, indeed, done it very well ; but it is a foolish thing 
well done. I suppose he has been so much elated with the 
success of his new comedy, that he has thought everything 
that concerned him must be of importance to the public." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Using details given elsewhere regarding the looks and dress of 
Goldsmith at this period, write an imaginary picture of Goldsmith at 
the moment when he began to cane Evans. 

2. What was Boswell's nickname ? Goldsmith's ? Johnson's ? 
Burke's ? Do the characters of history seem more real to you when 
vou know their nicknames .'' 



CHAPTER XXXIX 

Boswell in Holy- Week — Dinner at Oglethorpe's — Dinner at Paoli's— The 
Policy of Truth — Goldsmith affects Independence of Royalty — Paoli's 
Compliment — Johnson's Eulogium on the Fiddle — Question about Suicide 
— Boswell's Subserviency. 

The return of Boswell to town to his task of noting down 
the conversations of Johnson, enables us to glean from his 
journal some scanty notices of Goldsmith. It was now Holy- 
Week, a time during which Johnson was particularly solemn 
in his manner and strict in his devotions. Boswell, who 5 
was the imitator of the great moralist in everything, assumed, 
of course, an extra devoutness on the present occasion. 
" He had an odd mock solemnity of tone and manner," said 
Miss Burney (afterwards Madame D'Arblay), "which he had 
acquired from constantly thinking, and imitating Dr. John- 10 
son." It would seem that he undertook to deal out some 
second-hand homilies, a la Johnson^ for the edification of 
Goldsmith during Holy-Week. The poet, whatever might 
be his religious feeling, had no disposition to be schooled 
by so shallow an apostle. "Sir," said he in reply, "as I 15 
take my shoes from the shoemaker, and my coat from the 
tailor, so I take my religion from the priest." 

Boswell treasured up the reply in his memory or his 
memorandum-book. A few days afterwards, the 9th of 
April, he kept Good Friday with Dr. Johnson, in orthodox 20 
style ; breakfasted with him on tea and cross-buns; went to 
church with him morning and evening; fasted in the inter- 
val, and read with him in the Greek Testament : then, in 
the piety of his heart, complained of the sore rebuif he had 
met with in the course of his religious exhortations to the 25 

299 



300 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

poet, and lamented that the latter should indulge in "this 
loose way of talking." " Sir," replied Johnson, " Goldsmith 
knows nothing — he has made up his mind about nothing." 
This reply seems to have gratified the lurking jealousy of 
5 Boswell, and he has recorded it in his journal. Johnson, 
however, with respect to Goldsmith, and indeed with respect 
to everybody else, blew hot as well as cold, according to the 
humor he was in. Boswell, who was astonished and piqued 
at the continually increasing celebrity of the poet, observed 

10 some time after to Johnson, in a tone of surprise, that Gold- 
smith had acquired more fame than all the officers of the 
last war who were not generals. " Why, sir," answered 
Johnson, his old feeling of good-will working uppermost, 
" you will find ten thousand fit to do what they did, before 

15 you find one to do what Goldsmith has done. You must 
consider that a thing is valued according to its rarity. A 
pebble that paves the street is in itself more useful than the 
diamond upon a lady's finger." 

On the 13th of April we find Goldsmith and Johnson at 

20 the table of old General Oglethorpe, discussing the question 
of the degeneracy of the human race. Goldsmith asserts the 
fact, and attributes it to the influence of luxury. Johnson 
denies the fact, and observes, that, even admitting it, luxury 
could not be the cause. It reached but a small proportion 

25 of the human race. Soldiers, on sixpence a day, could not 
indulge in luxuries ; the poor and laboring classes, forming 
the great mass of mankind, were out of its sphere. Where- 
ever it could reach them, it strengthened them and rendered 
them prolific. The conversation was not of particular force 

30 or point as reported by Boswell ; the dinner-party was a very 
small one, in which there was no provocation to intellectual 
display. 

After dinner they took tea with the ladies, where we find 
poor Goldsmith happy and at home, singing Tony Lumpkin's 



DINNER AT PAOLI'S 301 

song of the "Three Jolly Pigeons," and another, called the 
'' Humors of Ballamaguery," to a very pretty Irish tune. 
It was to have been introduced in " She Stoops to Conquer," 
but was left out, as the actress who played the heroine could 
not sing. 5 

It was in these genial moments that the sunshine of Gold- 
smith's nature would break out, and he would say and do a 
thousand whimsical and agreeable things that made him the 
life of the strictly social circle. Johnson, with whom con- 
versation was everything, used to judge Goldsmith too much 10 
by his own colloquial standard, and undervalue him for being 
less provided than himself with acquired facts, the ammuni- 
tion of the tongue and often the mere lumber of the memory; 
others, however, valued him for the native felicity of his 
thoughts, however carelessly expressed, and for certain good- 15 
fellow qualities, less calculated to dazzle than to endear. 
" It is amazing," said Johnson one day, after he himself 
had been talking Uke an oracle ; " it is amazing how little 
Goldsmith knows; he seldom comes where he is not more 
ignorant than any one else." "Yet," replied Sir Joshua 20 
Reynolds, with affectionate promptness, " there is no man 
whose company is more liked. ^^ 

Two or three days after the dinner at General Oglethorpe's, 
Goldsmith met Johnson again at the table of General Paoli, 
the hero of Corsica. Martinelli, of Florence, author of an 25 
Italian History of England, was among the guests; as was 
Boswell, to whom we are indebted for minutes of the con- 
versation which took place. The question was debated 
whether Martinelli should continue his history down to that 
day. "To be sure he should," said Goldsmith. "No, sir," 30 
cried Johnson, " it would give great offence. He would have 
to tell of almost all the living great what they did not wish 
told." Goldsmith. — " It may, perhaps, be necessary for a 
native to be more cautious ; but a foreigner, who comes 



302 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

among us without prejudice, may be considered as holding 
the place of a judge, and may speak his mind freely." 
Johnson. — " Sir, a foreigner, when he sends a work from the 
press, ought to be on his guard against catching the error 

5 and mistaken enthusiasm of the people among whom he 
happens to be." Goldsmith. — " Sir, he wants only to sell 
his history, and to tell truth ; one an honest, the other a 
laudable motive." Johnson. — " Sir, they are both laudable 
motives. It is laudable in a man to wish to live by his 

10 labors ; but he should write so as he may Ikie by them, not 
so as he may be knocked on the head. I would advise him 
to be at Calais before he publishes his history of the present 
age. A foreigner who attaches himself to a political party 
in this country is in the worst state that can be imagined; 

15 he is looked upon as a mere intermeddler. A native may 
do it from interest." Boswell. — "Or principle." Gold- 
smith. — " There are people who tell a hundred political 
lies every day, and are not hurt by it. Surely, then, one 
may tell truth with perfect safety." Johnson. — "Why, sir, 

2f In the first place, he who tells a hundred lies has disarmed 
the force of his lies. But, besides, a man had rather have 
a hundred lies told of him than one truth which he does not 
wish to be told." Goldsmith. — " For my part, I 'd tell the 
truth, and shame the devil." Johnson. — " Yes, sir, but the 

3-5 devil will be angry. I wish to shame the devil as much 
as you do, but I should choose to be out of the reach of his 
claws." Goldsmith. — " His claws can do you no hurt where 
you have the shield of truth." 

This last reply was one of Goldsmith's lucky hits, and 

30 closed the argument in his favor. 

"We talked," writes Boswell, "of the King's coming to 
see Goldsmith's new play." " I wish he would," said Gold- 
smith, adding, however, with an affected indifference, "not 
that it would do me the least good." " Well, then/' cried 



INDEPENDENCE OF ROYALTY 303 

Johnson, laughing, " let us say it would do him good. 
No, sir, this affectation will not pass, — it is mighty idle. 
In such a state as ours, who would not wish to please the 
chief magistrate?" 

" I do wish to please him," rejoined Goldsmith. *' I re- 5 
member a line in Dryden : — 

" ' And every poet is the monarch's friend ; ' 

it ought to be reversed." " Nay," said Johnson, " there are 
finer lines in Dryden on this subject: 

" ' For colleges on bounteous kings depend, 10 

And never rebel was to arts a friend.' " 

General Paoli observed that "successful rebels might be." 
"Happy rebellions," interjected Martinelli. "We have no 
such phrase," cried Goldsmith. " But have you not the 
thing?" asked Paoli. "Yes," replied Goldsmith, "all our 15 
happy revolutions. They have hurt our constitution, and 
will hurt it, till we mend it by another happy revolution." 
This was a sturdy sally of Jacobitism, that quite surprised 
Boswell, but must have been relished by Johnson. 

General Paoli mentioned a passage in the play, which had 20 
been construed into a compliment to a lady of distinction, 
whose marriage with the Duke of Cumberland had excited 
the strong disapprobation of the King as a mesalliance. 
Boswell, to draw Goldsmith out, pretended to think the 
compliment unintentional. The poet smiled and hesitated. 25 
The General came to his relief. " Monsieur Goldsmith," 
said he, "est comme la mer, qui jette des perles et beaucoup 
d'autres belles choses, sans s'en appercevoir." (Mr. Gold- 
smith is like the sea, which casts forth pearls and many 
other beautiful things without perceiving it.) 30 

" Tres-bien dit, et tres-elegamment," (very well said, and 
very elegantly,) exclaimed Goldsmith, delighted with so 
beautiful a compliment from such a quarter. 



304 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Johnson spoke disparagingly of the learning of Mr. Harris, 
of Salisbury, and doubted his being a good Grecian. " He 
is what is much better," cried Goldsmith, with prompt good- 
nature, — "he is a worthy, humane man." "Nay, sir," 
5 rejoined the logical Johnson, " that is not to the purpose of 
our argument ; that will prove that he can play upon the 
fiddle as well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Grecian." 
Goldsmith found he had got into a scrape, and seized upon 
Giardini to help him out of it. " The greatest musical per- 

10 formers," said he, dexterously turning the conversation, 
" have but small emoluments ; Giardini, I am told, does not 
get above seven hundred a year." "That is indeed but 
little for a man to get," observed Johnson, "who does best 
that which so many endeavor to do. There is nothing, I 

15 think, in which the power of art is shown so much as in 
playing on the fiddle. In all other things we can do some- 
thing at first. Any man will forge a bar of iron, if you give 
him a hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably. A 
man will saw a piece of wood, and make a box, though a 

20 clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and fiddlestick, and he 
can do nothing." 

This, upon the whole, though reported by the one-sided 
Boswell, is a tolerable specimen of the conversations of 
Goldsmith and Johnson ; the former heedless, often illogical, 

25 always on the kind-hearted side of the question, and prone 
to redeem himself by lucky hits ; the latter closely argu- 
mentative, studiously sententious, often profound, and some- 
times laboriously prosaic. 

They had an argument a few days later at Mr. Thrale's 

30 table, on the subject of suicide. " Do you think, sir," said 
Boswell, " that all who commit suicide are mad ? " " Sir," 
replied Johnson, " they are not often universally disordered 
in their intellects, but one passion presses so upon them 
that they yield to it, and commit suicide, as a passionate 



QUESTION ABOUT SUICIDE 305 

man will stab another. I have often thought," added he, 
" that after a man has taken the resolution to kill himself, it 
is not courage in him to do anything, however desperate, 
because he has nothing to fear." " I don't see that," 
observed Goldsmith. "Nay, but, my dear sir," rejoined 5 
Johnson, " why should you not see what every one else 
does?" "It is," replied Goldsmith, "for fear of something 
that he has resolved to kill himself ; and will not that timid 
disposition restrain him?" " It does not signify," pursued 
Johnson, " that the fear of something made him resolve ; it 10 
is upon the state of his mind, after the resolution is taken, 
that I argue. Suppose a man, either from fear, or pride, or 
conscience, or whatever motive, has resolved to kill himself; 
when once the resolution is taken he has nothing to fear. 
He may then go and take the King of Prussia by the nose 15 
at the head of his army. He cannot fear the rack who 
is determined to kill himself." Boswell reports no more 
of the discussion, though Goldsmith might have continued 
it with advantage : for the very timid disposition, which 
through fear of something was impelling the man to com- 20 
mit suicide, might restrain him from an act involving the 
punishment of the rack, more terrible to him than death 
itself. 

It is to be regretted in all these reports by Boswell, we 
have scarcely anything but the remarks of Johnson ; it is 25 
only by accident that he now and then gives us the obser- 
vations of others, when they are necessary to explain or set 
off those of his hero. '' When in that presence,^'' says Miss 
Burney, "he was unobservant, if not contemptuous of every 
one else. In truth, when he met with Dr. Johnson, he 30 
commonly forebore even answering anything that was said, 
or attending to anything that went forward, lest he should 
miss the smallest sound from that voice, to which he paid 
such exclusive, though merited homage. But the moment 



306 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

that voice burst forth, the attention which it excited on Mr. 
Boswell amounted almost to pain. His eyes goggled with 
eagerness ; he leant his ear almost on the shoulder of the 
Doctor; and his mouth dropped open to catch every syllable 
5 that might be uttered ; nay, he seemed not only to dread 
losing a word, but to be anxious not to miss a breathing, as 
if hoping from it latently, or mystically, some information." 
On one occasion the Doctor detected Boswell, or Bozzy, 
as he called him, eavesdropping behind his chair, as he was 

lo conversing with Miss Burney at Mr. Thrale's table. " What 

are you doing there, sir?" cried he, turning round angrily, 

and clapping his hand upon his knee. " Go to the table, sir." 

Boswell obeyed with an air of affright and submission, 

which raised a smile on every face. Scarce had he taken 

15 his seat, however, at a distance, than, impatient to get again 
at the side of Johnson, he rose and was running off in quest 
of something to show him, when the Doctor roared after 
him authoritatively, " What are you thinking of, sir ? Why 
do you get up before the cloth is removed ? Come back 

20 to your place, sir;" — and the obsequious spaniel did as 
he was commanded. — " Running about in the middle of 
meals ! " muttered the Doctor, pursing his mouth at the 
same time to restrain his rising risibility. 

Boswell got another rebuff from Johnson, which would 

25 have demolished any other man. He had been teasing him 
with many direct questions, such as, " What did you do, sir? 
— What did you say, sir?" until the great philologist 
became perfectly enraged. " I will not be put to the 
questio7i!^^ roared he. " Don't you consider, sir, that these 

30 are not the manners of a gentleman ? I will not be baited 
with what and why ; — What is this ? What is that ? Why 
is a cow's tail long? Why is a fox's tail bushy?" "Why, 
sir," replied pilgarlick, "you are so good that I venture to 
trouble you." "Sir," replied Johnson, "my being so good 



SERVILITY OF BOSWELL 307 

is no reason why you should be so HIT "You have but 
two topics, sir," exclaimed he on another occasion, "your- 
self and me, and I am sick of both." 

Boswell's inveterate disposition to toad, was a sore cause 
of mortification to his father, the old laird of Auchinleck (or 5 
Affleck). He had been annoyed by his extravagant devo- 
tion to Paoli, but then he was something of a military hero; 
but this tagging at the heels of Dr. Johnson, whom he con- 
sidered a kind of pedagogue, set his Scotch blood in a 
ferment. " There 's nae hope for Jamie, mon," said he to a 10 
friend ; — " Jamie is gaen clean gyte. What do you think, 
mon 1 He 's done wi' Paoli ; he 's off wi' the land-louping 
scoundrel of a Corsican ; and whose tail do you think he 
has pinn'd himself to now, mon } A dominie, mon ; an auld 
dominie; he keeped a schule, and cau'd it an acaadamy." 15 

We shall show in the next chapter that Jamie's devotion 
to the dominie did not go unrewarded. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Would you rather be in the company of a person like Johnson or 
of one like Goldsmith ? Why ? 

2. Do all parts of this chapter help to develop the general topic of 
the book, ?>., the life and character of Goldsmith ? 

3. What are cross buns ? 

4. How many references are there to " The Three Jolly Pigeons " t 



CHAPTER XL 

Changes in the Literary Club — Johnson's Objection to Garrick — Election 
of Boswell. 

The Literary Club (as we have termed the club in Gerard 
Street, though it took that name some time later) had now 
been in existence several years. Johnson was exceedingly 
chary at first of its exclusiveness, and opposed to its being 
5 augmented in number. Not long after its institution, Sir 
Joshua Reynolds was speaking of it to Garrick. '' I like it 
much," said little David, briskly ; " I think I shall be of 
you." "When Sir Joshua mentioned this to Dr. Johnson," 
says Boswell, "he was much displeased with the actor's con- 

lo ceit. ^HeUl be of 21s V growled he. 'How does he know 
we ^'"XX permit him ? The first duke in England has no right 
to hold such language.' " 

When Sir John Hawkins spoke favorably of Garrick's pre- 
tensions, " Sir," replied Johnson, " he will disturb us by his 

15 buffoonery." In the same spirit he declared to Mr. Thrale, 
that, if Garrick should apply for admission, he would black- 
ball him. " Who, sir ? " exclaimed Thrale, with surprise ; 
"Mr. Garrick — your friend, your companion — black-ball 
him!" "Why, sir," replied Johnson, "I love my little 

20 David dearly — better than all or any of his flatterers do ; 
but surely one ought to sit in a society like ours, 

" * Unelbowed by a gamester, pimp, or player.' " 

The exclusion from the club was a sore mortification to 

Garrick, though he bore it without complaining. He could 

25 not help continually to ask questions about it — what was 

308 



BOSWELL PROPOSED AT THE CLUB 309 

going on there — whether he was ever the subject of con- 
versation. By degrees the rigor of the club relaxed : some 
of the members grew negligent. Beauclerc lost his right 
of membership by neglecting to attend. On his marriage, 
however, with Lady Diana Spencer, daughter of the Duke 5 
of Marlborough, and recently divorced from Viscount Boling- 
broke, he had claimed and regained his seat in the club. 
The number of members had likewise been augmented. 
The proposition to increase it originated with Goldsmith. 
" It would give," he thought, " an agreeable variety to their 10 
meetings ; for there can be- nothing new amongst us," said 
he ; " we have travelled over each other's minds." Johnson 
was piqued at the suggestion. " Sir," said he, '' you have 
not travelled over my mind, I promise you." Sir Joshua, 
less confident in the exhaustless fecundity of his mind, 15 
felt and acknowledged the force of Goldsmith's suggestion. 
Several new members, therefore, had been added ; the first, 
to his great joy, was David Garrick. Goldsmith, who was 
now on cordial terms with him, had zealously promoted his 
election, and Johnson had given it his warm approbation. 20 
Another nevv^ member was Beauclerc's friend. Lord Charle- 
mont ; and a still more important one was Mr. (afterwards 
Sir William) Jones, the famous Orientalist, at that time a 
young lawyer of the Temple and a distinguished scholar. 

To the great astonishment of the club, Johnson now pro- 25 
posed his devoted follower, Boswell, as a member. He did 
it in a note addressed to Goldsmith, who presided on the 
evening of the 23d of April. The nomination was seconded 
by Beauclerc. According to the rules of the club, the ballot 
would take place at the next meeting (on the 30th) ; there 30 
was an intervening week, therefore, in which to discuss the 
pretensions of the candidate. We may easily imagine the 
discussions that took place. Boswell had made himself 
absurd in such a variety of ways that the very idea of his 



310 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

admission was exceedingly irksome to some of the members. 
" Thie honor of being elected into the Turk's Head Club," 
said the Bishop of St. Asaph, " is not inferior to that of 
being representative of Westminster and Surrey;" what had 

5 Boswell done to merit such an honor? What chance had 
he of gaining it ? The answer was simple: he had been the 
persevering worshipper, if not sycophant of Johnson. The 
great lexicographer had a heart to be won by apparent affec- 
tion; he stood forth authoritatively in support of his vassal. 

lo If asked to state the merits of the candidate, he summed 
them up in an indefinite but comprehensive word of his own 
coining : — he was chibable. He moreover gave significant 
hints that if Boswell were kept out he should oppose the 
admission of any other candidate. No further opposition 

15 was made ; in fact none of the members had been so fastidi- 
ous and exclusive in regard to the club as Johnson himself; 
and if he were pleased, they were easily satisfied: besides, 
they knew that, with all his faults, Boswell was a cheerful 
companion, and possessed lively social qualities. 

20 On Friday, when the ballot was to take place, Beauclerc 
gave a dinner, at his house in the Adelphi, where Boswell 
met several of the members who were favorable to his elec- 
tion. After dinner the latter adjourned to the club, leaving 
Boswell in company with Lady Di Beauclerc until the fate 

25 of his election should be known. He sat, he says, in a state 
of anxiety which even the charming conversation of Lady 
Di could not entirely dissipate. It was not long before 
tidings were brought of his election, and he was conducted 
to the place of meeting, where, beside the company he had 

30 met at dinner, Burke, Dr. Nugent, Garrick, Goldsmith, and 
Mr. William Jones were waiting to receive him. The club, 
notwithstanding all its learned dignity in the eyes of the 
world, could at times "unbend and play the fool" as well 
as less important bodies. Some of its jocose conversations 



CHARGE OF JOHNSON 311 

have at times leaked out, and a society in which Goldsmith 
could venture to sing his song of " an old woman tossed in a 
blanket," could not be so very staid in its gravity. We may 
suppose, therefore, the jokes that had been passing among 
the members while awaiting the arrival of Boswell. Beau- 5 
clerc himself could not have repressed his disposition for a 
sarcastic pleasantry. At least we have a right to presume 
all this from the conduct of Doctor Johnson himself. 

With all his gravity he possessed a deep fund of quiet 
humor, and felt a kind of whimsical responsibility to protect 10 
the club from the absurd propensities of the very question- 
able associate he had thus inflicted on them. Rising, there- 
fore, as Boswell entered, he advanced with a very doctorial 
air, placed himself behind a chair, on which he leaned as on 
a desk or pulpit, and then delivered, ex cathedra, a mock 15 
solemn charge, pointing out the conduct expected from him 
as a good member of the club ; what he was to do, and 
especially what he was to avoid ; including in the latter, no 
doubt, all those petty, prying, questioning, gossiping, bab- 
bling habits which had so often grieved the spirit of the 20 
lexicographer. It is to be regretted that Boswell has never 
thought proper to note down the particulars of this charge, 
which, from the well-known characters and positions of the 
parties, might have furnished a parallel to the noted charge 
of Launcelot Gobbo to his dog. 25 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Boswell's election to the club. 

2. Why is Johnson called the great lexicographer? 

3. How much is there about Goldsmith in this chapter ? Is Irving's 
book faulty because the author does not tell more concerning Goldsmith 
in the chapter ? 



CHAPTER XLI 

Dinner at Dilly's — Conversations on Natural History — Intermeddling of Bos- 
well — Dispute about Toleration — Johnson's Rebuff to Goldsmith; His 
Apology — Man-Worship — Doctors Major and Minor — A Farewell Visit. 

A few days after the serio-comic scene of the elevation of 
Boswell into the Literary Club, we find that indefatigable 
biographer giving particulars of a dinner at the Dillys', 
booksellers, in the Poultry, at which he met Goldsmith and 
5 Johnson, with several other literary characters. His anec- 
dotes of the conversation, of course, go to glorify Dr. John- 
son ; for, as he observes in his biography, "his conversation 
alone, or what led to it, or was interwoven with it, is the 
business of this work." Still on the present, as on other 

lo occasions, he gives unintentional and perhaps unavoidable 
gleams of Goldsmith's good sense, which show that the 
latter only wanted a less prejudiced and more impartial 
reporter, to put down the charge of colloquial incapacity so 
unjustly fixed upon him. Tifie conversation turned upon 

15 the natural history of birds, a beautiful subject, on which 
the poet, from his recent studies, his habits of observation, 
and his natural tastes, must have talked with instruction 
and feeling ; yet, though we have much of what Johnson 
said, we have only a casual remark or two of Goldsmith. 

20 One was on the migration of swallows, which he pronounced 
partial; "the stronger ones," said he, "migrate, the others 
do not." 

Johnson denied to the brute creation the faculty of reason, 
" Birds," said he, " build by instinct ; they never improve ; 

25 they build their first nest as well as any one they ever 
build." "Yet we see," observed Goldsmith, "if you take 

312 



CONVERSATIONS ON NATURAL HISTORY 313 

away a bird's-nest with the eggs in it, she will make a 
slighter nest and lay again." "Sir," replied Johnson, "that 
is because at first she has full time, and makes her nest 
deliberately. In the case you mention, she is pressed to 
lay, and must, therefore, make her nest quickly, and con- 5 
sequently it will be slight." " The nidification of birds," 
rejoined Goldsmith, "is what is least known in natural his- 
tory, though one of the most curious things in it." While 
conversation was going on in this placid, agreeable, and 
instructive manner, the eternal meddler and busybody, Bos- 10 
well, must intrude to put in a brawl. The Dillys were dis- 
senters ; two of their guests were dissenting clergymen ; 
another, Mr. Toplady, was a clergyman of the established 
church. Johnson himself was a zealous, uncompromising 
churchman. None but a marplot like Boswell would have 15 
thought, on such an occasion and in such company, to 
broach the subject of religious toleration ; but, as has been 
well observed, " it was his perverse inclination to intro- 
duce subjects that he hoped would produce difference and 
debate." In the present instance he gained his point. An 20 
animated dispute immediately arose, in which, according to 
Boswell's report, Johnson monopolized the greater part of 
the conversation ; not always treating the dissenting clergy- 
men with the greatest courtesy, and even once wounding 
the feelings of the mild and amiable Bennet Langton by 25 
his harshness. 

Goldsmith mingled a little in the dispute and with some 
advantage, but was cut short by flat contradictions when 
most in the right. He sat for a time silent but impatient 
under such overbearing dogmatism, though Boswell, with his 30 
usual misinterpretation, attributes his " restless agitation " 
to a wish to get i7i and shine. " Finding himself excluded," 
continues Boswell, " he had taken his hat to go away, but 
remained for a time with it in his hand, like a gamester who 



314 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

at the end of a long night lingers for a little while to see if 
he can have a favorable opportunity to finish with success," 
Once he was beginning to speak, when he was overpowered 
by the loud voice of Johnson, who was at the opposite end 
5 of the table, and did not perceive his attempt; whereupon 
he threw down, as it were, his hat and his argument, and, 
darting an angry glance at Johnson, exclaimed in a bitter 
tone, ''Take itT 

Just then one of the disputants was beginning to speak, 

10 when, Johnson uttering some sound, as if about to interrupt 
him, Goldsmith, according to Boswell, seized the opportunity 
to vent his own envy aiid spleen under pretext of supporting 
another person. " Sir," said he to Johnson, " the gentleman 
has heard you patiently for an hour ; pray allow us now to 

15 hear him." It was a reproof in the lexicographer's own 
style, and he may have felt that he merited it ; but he was 
not accustomed to be reproved. " Sir," said he, sternly, "I 
was not interrupting the gentleman; I was only giving him 
a signal of my attention. Sir, you are impertinent.^^ Gold- 

20 smith made no reply, but after some time went away, having 
another engagement. 

That evening, as Boswell was on the way with Johnson 
and Langton to the club, he seized the occasion to make 
some disparaging remarks on Goldsmith, which he thought 

25 would just then be acceptable to the great lexicographer. 
" It was a pity," he said, " that Goldsmith would on every 
occasion endeavor to shine, by which he so often exposed 
himself." Langton contrasted him with Addison, who, con- 
tent with the fame of his writings, acknowledged himself 

30 unfit for conversation ; and on being taxed by a lady with 
silence in company, replied, " Madam, I have but ninepence 
in ready money, but I can draw for a thousand pounds." 
To this Boswell rejoined that Goldsmith had a great deal 
of gold in his cabinet, but was always taking out his purse. 



INTERMEDDLING OF BOSWELL 315 

" Yes, sir," chuckled Johnson, " and that so often an empty 
purse." 

By the time Johnson arrived at the club, however, his 
angry feelings had subsided, and his native generosity and 
sense of justice had got the uppermost. He found Gold- 5 
smith in company with Burke, Garrick, and other members, 
but sitting silent and apart, " brooding," as Boswell says, 
"over the reprimand he had received." Johnson's good 
heart yearned towards him ; and knowing his placable 
nature, " I '11 make Goldsmith forgive me," whispered he ; 10 
then, with a loud voice, "Dr. Goldsmith," said he, "some- 
thing passed to-day where you and I dined, — / ask your 
pardon^ The ire of the poet was extinguished in an instant, 
and his grateful affection for the magnanimous though some- 
times overbearing moralist rushed to his heart. "It must 15 
be much from you, sir," said he, " that I take ill ! " " And 
so," adds Boswell, " the difference was over, and they were 
on as easy terms as ever, and Goldsmith rattled away as 
usual." We do not think these stories tell to the poet's 
disadvantage, even though related by Boswell. 20 

Goldsmith, with all his modesty, could not be ignorant of 
his proper merit, and must have felt annoyed at times at being 
undervalued and elbowed aside by light-minded or dull men, 
in their blind and exclusive homage to the literary autocrat. 
It was a fine reproof he gave to Boswell on one occasion, 25 
for talking of Johnson as entitled to the honor of exclusive 
superiority. " Sir, you are for making a monarchy what 
should be a republic." On another occasion, when he was 
conversing in company with great vivacity, and apparently 
to the satisfaction of those around him, an honest Swiss 30 
who sat near, one George Michael Moser, keeper of the 
Royal Academy, perceiving Dr. Johnson rolling himself as if 
about to speak, exclaimed, " Stay, stay ! Toctor Shonson is 
going to say something." "And are you sure, sir," replied . 



3l6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Goldsmith, sharply, " that you can comprehend what he 
says ? " 

This clever rebuke, which gives the main zest to the 
anecdote, is omitted by Boswell, who probably did not 
5 perceive the point of it. 

He relates another anecdote of the kind on the authority 
of Johnson himself. The latter and Goldsmith were one 
evening in company with the Rev. George Graham, a mas- 
ter of Eton, who, notwithstanding the sobriety of his cloth, 

lo had got intoxicated "to about the pitch of looking at one 
man and talking to another." " Doctor," cried he, in an 
ecstasy of devotion and good-will, but goggling by mistake 
upon Goldsmith, " I should be glad to see you at Eton." 
" I shall be glad to wait upon you," replied Goldsmith. 

15 " No, no ! " cried the other, eagerly ; " 't is not you I mean, 
Doctor Minor ^ 't is Doctor Major there." " You may easily 
conceive," said Johnson, in relating the anecdote, "what effect 
this had upon Goldsmith, who was irascible as a hornet." 
The only comment, however, which he is said to have made, 

20 partakes more of quaint and dry humor than bitterness. 
"That Graham," said he, "is enough to make one commit 
suicide." What more could be said to express the intoler- 
able nuisance of a consummate bore ? 

We have now given the last scenes between Goldsmith 

25 and Johnson which stand recorded by Boswell. The latter 
called on the poet, a few days after the dinner at Dilly's, to 
take leave of him prior to departing for Scotland ; yet, even 
in this last interview, he contrives to get up a charge of 
"jealousy and envy." Goldsmith, he would fain persuade 

30 us, is very angry that Johnson is going to travel with him in 
Scotland, and endeavors to persuade him that he will be 
a dead weight " to lug along through the Highlands and 
Hebrides." Any one else, knowing the character and habits 



DOCTORS MAJOR AND MINOR 317 

of Johnson, would have thought the same ; and no one but 
Boswell would have supposed his ofBce of bear-leader to 
the ursa major a thing to be envied.-^ 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

I. What sentence in the chapter most highly indicates Irving's 
admiration and esteem for Goldsmith ? Is there anything in Irving's 
own life to make him naturally sympathetic with Goldsmith ? 



1 One of Peter Pindar's (Dr. Wolcot) most amusing y^zcr (T esprit is his con- 
gratulatory epistle to Boswell on this tour of which we subjoin a few lines. 

" O Boswell, Bozzy, Bruce, whate'er thy name. 
Thou mighty shark for anecdote and fame ; 
Thou jackal, leading lion Johnson forth, 
To eat M'Pherson 'midst his native north; 
To frighten grave professors with his roar, 
And shake the Hebrides from shore to shore. 



Biess'd be thy labors, most adventurous Bozzy, 

Bold rival of Sir John and Dame Piozzi ; 

Heavens ! with what laurels shall thy head be crown'd ! 

A grove, a forest, shall thy ears surround ! 

Yes ! whilst the Rambler shall a comet blaze, 

And gild a world of darkness with his rays, 

Thee, too, that world with wonderment shall hail, 

A lively, bouncing cracker at his tail ! " 



CHAPTER XLII 

Project of a Dictionary of Arts and Sciences — Disappointment — Negligent 
Authorship — Application for a Pension — Beattie's Essay on Truth — 
Public Adulation — A High-minded Rebuke. 

The works which Goldsmith had still .in hand being, 
already paid for, and the money gone, some new scheme 
must be devised to provide for the past and the future, — 
for impending debts which threatened to crush him, and 
5 expenses which were continually increasing. He now pro- 
jected a work of greater compass than any he had yet 
undertaken : a Dictionary of Arts and Sciences on a com- 
prehensive scale, which was to occupy a number of volumes. 
For this he received promise of assistance from several power- 

10 ful hands. Johnson was to contribute an article on ethics ; 
Burke, an abstract of his " Essay on the Sublime and 
Beautiful," an essay on the Berkeleyan system of philosophy, 
and others on political science ; Sir Joshua Reynolds, an 
essay on painting ; and Garrick, while he undertook on his 

15 own part to furnish an essay on acting, engaged Dr. Burney 
to contribute an article on music. Here was a great array 
of talent positively engaged, while other writers of eminence 
were to be sought for the various departments of science. 
Goldsmith was to edit the whole. An undertaking of this 

20 kind, while it did not incessantly task and exhaust his 
inventive powers by original composition, would give agree- 
able and profitable exercise to his taste and judgment in 
selecting, compiling, and arranging, and he calculated to 
diffuse over the whole the acknowledged graces of his 

25 style. 

318 



NATURAL HISTORY 319 

He drew up a prospectus of the plan, which is said by 
Bishop Percy, who saw it, to have been written with uncom- 
mon ability, and to have had that perspicuity and elegance 
for which his writings are remarkable. This paper, unfor- 
tunately, is no longer in existence. 5 

Goldsmith's expectations, always sanguine respecting any 
new plan, were raised to an extraordinary height by the 
present project; and well they might be, when we consider 
the powerful coadjutors already pledged. They were doomed, 
however, to complete disappointment. Davies, the biblio- 10 
pole of Russell Street, lets us into the secret of this failure. 
"The booksellers," said he, "notwithstanding they had a 
very good opinion of his abilities, yet were startled at the 
bulk, importance, and expense of so great an undertaking, 
the fate of which was to depend upon the industry of a man 15 
with whose indolence of temper and method of procrasti- 
nation they had long been acquainted." 

Goldsmith certainly gave reason for some such distrust 
by the heedlessness with which he conducted his literary 
undertakings. Those unfinished, but paid for, would be 20 
suspended to make way for some job that was to provide 
for present necessities. Those thus hastily taken up would 
be as hastily executed, and the whole, however pressing, 
would be shoved aside and left " at loose ends," on some 
sudden call to social enjoyment or recreation. 25 

Cradock tells us that on one occasion, when Goldsmith 
was hard at work on his " Natural History," he sent to Dr. 
Percy and himself, entreating them to finish some pages of 
his work which lay upon his table, and for which the press 
was urgent, he being detained by other engagements at 30 
Windsor. They met by appointment at his chambers in 
the Temple, where they found everything in disorder, and 
costly books lying scattered about on the tables and on the 
floor ; many of the books on natural history which he had 



320 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

recently consulted lay open among uncorrected proof-sheets. 
The subject in hand, and from which he had suddenly 
broken off, related to birds. "Do you know anything 
about birds ? " asked Dr. Percy, smiling. " Not an atom," 
5 replied Cradock ; " do you.'* " " Not I. I scarcely know a 
goose from a swan ; however, let us try what we can do." 
They set to work and completed their friendly task. Gold- 
smith, however, when he came to revise it, made such alter- 
ations that they could neither of them recognize their 

10 own share. The engagement at Windsor, which had thus 
caused Goldsmith to break off suddenly from his multifa- 
rious engagements, was a party of pleasure with some liter- 
ary ladies. Another anecdote was current, illustrative of the 
carelessness with which he executed works requiring accu- 

15 racy and research. On the 2 2d of June he had received 
payment in advance for a " Grecian History " in two vol- 
umes, though only one was finished. As he was pushing on 
doggedly at the second volume, Gibbon, the historian, called 
in. " You are the man of all others I wish to see," cried 

20 the poet, glad to be saved the trouble of reference to his 
books. "What was the name of that Indian king who gave 
Alexander the Great so much trouble ? " " Montezuma," 
replied Gibbon, sportively. The heedless author was about 
committing the name to paper without reflection, when Gib- 

25 bon pretended to recollect himself, and gave the true name, 
Porus. 

This story, very probably, was a sportive exaggeration ; 
but it was a multiplicity of anecdotes like this and the pre- 
ceding one, some true and some false, which had impaired 

30 the confidence of booksellers in Goldsmith as a man to be 
relied on for a task requiring wide and accurate research, and 
close and long-continued application. The project of the 
" Universal Dictionary," therefore, met with no encourage- 
ment, and fell through. 



PENSION DENIED 321 

The failure of this scheme, on which he had built such 
spacious hopes, sank deep into Goldsmith's heart. He was 
still further grieved and mortified by the failure of an effort 
made by some of his friends to obtain for him a pension 
from government. There had been a talk of the disposi- 5 
tion of the ministry to extend the bounty of the crown to 
distinguished literary men in pecuniary difficulty, without 
regard to their political creed : when the merits and claims 
of Goldsmith, however, were laid before them, they met 
no favor. The sin of sturdy independence lay at his door. 10 
He had refused to become a ministerial hack when offered 
a ca7'te blanche by Parson Scott, the cabinet emissary. 
The wondering parson had left him in poverty and ^' his 
garret,^^ and there the ministry were disposed to suffer him 
to remain. 15 

In the mean time Dr. Beattie comes out with his " Essay 
on Truth," and all the orthodox world are thrown into a 
paroxysm of contagious ecstasy. He is cried up as the 
great champion of Christianity against the attacks of modern 
philosophers and infidels ; he is feted and flattered in every 20 
way. He receives at Oxford the honorary degree of Doctor 
of Civil Law, at the same time with Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
The King sends for him, praises his Essay, and gives him a 
pension of two hundred pounds. 

Goldsmith feels more acutely the denial of a pension to 25 
himself when one has thus been given unsolicited to a man 
he might without vanity consider so much his inferior. He 
was not one to conceal his feelings. " Here 's such a stir," 
said he one day at Thrale's table, '' about a fellow that has 
written one book, and I have written so many !" 30 

" Ah, Doctor ! " exclaimed Johnson, in one of his caustic 
moods, " there go two-and-forty sixpences, you know, to one 
guinea." This is one of the cuts at poor Goldsmith in which 
Johnson went contrary to head and heart in his love for 



322 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

saying what is called a "good thing." No one knew better 
than himself the comparative superiority of the writings of 
Goldsmith ; but the jingle of the sixpences and the guinea 
was not to be resisted. 
5 " Everybody," exclaimed Mrs. Thrale, " loves Dr. Beattie, 
but Goldsmith, who says he cannot bear the sight of so much 
applause as they all bestow upon him. Did he not tell us 
so himself, no one would believe he was so exceedingly ill- 
natured." 

lo He told them so himself because he was too open and 
unreserved to disguise his feelings, and because he really 
considered the praise lavished on Beattie extravagant, as in 
fact it was. It was all, of course, set down to sheer envy 
and uncharitableness. To add to his annoyance, he found 

15 his friend. Sir Joshua Reynolds, joining in the universal 
adulation. He had painted a full-length portrait of Beattie 
decked in the doctor's robes in which he had figured at 
Oxford, with the '' Essay on Truth " under his arm and the 
angel of truth at his side, while Voltaire figured as one of 

20 the demons of infidelity, sophistry, and falsehood, driven 
into utter darkness. 

Goldsmith had known Voltaire in early life ; he had been 
his admirer and his biographer ; he grieved to find him 
receiving such an insult from the classic pencil of his friend. 

25 "It is unworthy of you," said he to Sir Joshua, "to debase 
so high a genius as Voltaire before so mean a writer as 
Beattie. Beattie and his book will be forgotten in ten years, 
while Voltaire's fame will last forever. Take care it does 
not perpetuate this picture to the shame of such a man 

30 as you." This noble and high-minded rebuke is the only 
instance on record of any reproachful words between the 
poet and the painter ; and we are happy to find that it did 
not destroy the harmony of their intercourse. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 323 

TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. What are the most desirable graces of style? [See also ques- 
tion I on Chapter XII.] 

2. Goldsmith's carelessness as a writer. 

3. Why did Goldsmith's project for a " Universal Dictionary" fail ? 

4. Why did not Goldsmith receive a pension from the Crown ? If 
he had received one should you think less highly of him ? 

5. Has Goldsmith's estimate of Voltaire's fame been justified.'* 
[Consult teacher of French.] 



CHAPTER XLIII 

Toil without Hope — The Poet in the Green-Room ; In the Flower-Garden ; 
At Vauxhall; Dissipation without Gayety — Cradock in Town; Friendly 
Sympathy ; A Parting Scene ; An Invitation to Pleasure. 

Thwarted in the plans and disappointed in the hopes which 
had recently cheered and animated him, Goldsmith found 
the labor at his half-finished tasks doubly irksome from the 
consciousness that the completion of them could not relieve 

5 him from his pecuniary embarrassments. His impaired health, 
also, rendered him less capable than formerly of sedentary 
application, and continual perplexities disturbed the flow of 
thought necessary for original composition. He lost his 
usual gayety and good-humor, and became, at times, peevish 

lo and irritable. Too proud of spirit to seek sympathy or relief 
from his friends, for the pecuniary difficulties he had brought 
upon himself by his errors and extravagance, and unwilling, 
perhaps, to make known their amount, he buried his cares 
and anxieties in his own bosom, and endeavored in company 

15 to keep up his usual air of gayety and unconcern. This 
gave his conduct an appearance of fitfulness and caprice, 
varying suddenly from moodiness to mirth, and from silent 
gravity to shallow laughter ; causing surprise and ridicule in 
those who were not aware of the sickness of heart which lay 

20 beneath. 

His poetical reputation, too, was sometimes a disadvan- 
tage to him ; it drew upon him a notoriety which he was 
not always in the mood or the vein to act up to. " Good 
heavens, Mr. Foote," exclaimed an actress at the Hay- 

25 market Theatre, " what a humdrum kind of man Dr. Gold- 
smith appears in our green-room compared with the figure 

324 



THE POET IN THE FLOWER-GARDEN 325 

he makes in his poetry ! " " The reason of that, madam," 
repKed Foote, " is because the Muses are better company 
than the players." 

Beauclerc's letters to his friend. Lord Charlemont, who 
was absent in Ireland, give us now and then an indica- 5 
tion of the whereabout of the poet during the present year. 
" I have been but once to the club since you left England," 
writes he ; " we were entertained, as usual, with Goldsmith's 
absurdity." With Beauclerc everything was absurd that was 
not polished and pointed. In another letter he threatens, 10 
unless Lord Charlemont returns to England, to bring over 
the whole club, and let them loose upon him to drive him 
home by their peculiar habits of annoyance ; — Johnson 
shall spoil his books; Goldsmith shall pull his flowers ; 
and last, and most intolerable of all. Bos well shall — talk 15 
to him. It would appear that the poet, who had a passion 
for flowers, v/as apt to pass much of his time in the garden 
when on a visit to a country-seat, much to the detriment of 
the flower-beds and the despair of the gardener. 

The summer wore heavily away with Goldsmith. He had 20 
not his usual solace of a country retreat ; his health was 
impaired and his spirits depressed. Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
who perceived the state of his mind, kindly gave him much 
of his company. In the course of their interchange of 
thought. Goldsmith suggested to him the story of Ugolino, 25 
as a subject for his pencil. The painting founded on it 
remains a memento of their friendship. 

On the 4th of August we find them together at Vauxhall, 
at that time a place in high vogue, and which had once 
been to Goldsmith a scene of Oriental splendor and delight. 30 
We have, in fact, in the " Citizen of the World," a picture 
of it as it had struck him in former years and in his happier 
moods. "Upon entering the gardens," says the Chinese 
philosopher, "I found every sense occupied with more than 



326 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

expected pleasure : the lights everywhere glimmering through 
the scarcely moving trees ; the full-bodied concert bursting 
on the stillness of the night; the natural concert of the 
birds in the more retired part of the grove, vying with 
5 that which was formed by art ; the company gayly dressed, 
looking satisfaction, and the tables spread with various 
delicacies, — all conspired to fill my imagination with the 
visionary happiness of the Arabian law-giver, and lifted me 
into an ecstasy of admiration."^ 

lo Everything now, however, is seen with different eyes; 
with him it is dissipation without pleasure; and he finds it 
impossible any longer, by mingling in the gay and giddy 
throng of apparently prosperous and happy beings, to escape 
from the carking care which is clinging to his heart. 

15 His kind friend, Cradock, came up to town towards 
autumn, when all the fashionable world was in the country, 
to give his wife the benefit of a skilful dentist. He took 
lodgings in Norfolk Street, to be in Goldsmith's neighbor- 
hood, and passed most of his mornings with him. " I found 

20 him," he says, "much altered and at times very low. He 
wished me to look over and revise some of his works ; but, 
with a select friend or two, I was more pressing that he 
should publish by subscription his two celebrated poems 
of the ' Traveller ' and the ' Deserted Village,' with notes." 

25 The idea of Cradock was, that the subscription would enable 
wealthy persons, favorable to Goldsmith, to contribute to 
his pecuniary relief without wounding his pride. " Gold- 
smith," said he, " readily gave up to me his private copies, 
and said, 'Pray do what you please with them.' But whilst 

30 he sat near me, he rather submitted to than encouraged my 
zealous proceedings. 

" I one morning called upon him, however, and found 
him infinitely better than I had expected ; and, in a kind of 

1 Citizen of the World, letter Ixxi. 



CRADOCK IN TOWN 327 

exulting style, he exclaimed, ' Here are some of the best of 
my prose writings ; / have beeji hard at ivork since midnight, 
and I desire you to examine them.' 'These,' said I, 'are 
excellent indeed.' 'They are,' replied he, 'intended as an 
introduction to a body of arts and sciences.' " 5 

Poor Goldsmith was, in fact, gathering together the frag- 
ments of his shipwreck — the notes and essays, and memo- 
randa collected for his dictionary; and proposed to found 
on them a work in two volumes, to be entitled " A Survey 
of Experimental Philosophy." 10 

The plan of the subscription came to nothing, and the 
projected survey never was executed. The head might yet 
devise, but the heart was failing him ; his talent at hoping, 
which gave him buoyancy to carry out his enterprises, was 
almost at an end. 15 

Cradock's farewell-scene with him is told in a simple but 
touching manner. 

" The day before I was to set out for Leicestershire, I 
insisted upon his dining with us. He replied, 'I will, but 
on one condition, that you Vv^ill not ask me to eat anything.' 20 
' Nay,' said I, ' this answer is absolutely unkind, for I had 
hoped, as we are supplied from the Crown and Anchor, 
that you would have named something you might have 
relished.' 'Well,' was the reply, 'if you will but explain it 
to Mrs. Cradock, I will certainly wait upon you.' 25 

" The Doctor found, as usual, at my apartments, news- 
papers and pamphlets, and with a pen and ink he amused 
himself as well as he could. I had ordered from the tavern 
some fish, a roasted joint of lamb, and a tart ; and the 
Doctor either sat down or walked about just as he pleased. 30 
After dinner he took some wine with biscuits ; but I was 
obliged soon to leave him for a while, as I had matters to 
settle prior to my next day's journey. On my return, coffee 
was ready, and the Doctor appeared more cheerful (for Mrs. 



328 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

Cradock was always rather a favorite with him), and in the 
evening he endeavored to talk and remark as usual, but 
all was force. He stayed till midnight, and I insisted on 
seeing him safe home, and we most cordially shook hands 
5 at the Temple-gate." Cradock little thought that this was 
to be their final parting. He looked back to it with mourn- 
ful recollections in after-years, and lamented that he had not 
remained longer in town at every inconvenience, to solace 
the poor broken-spirited poet. 

lo The latter continued in town all the autumn. At the 
opening of the Opera-House, on the 20th of November, 
Mrs. Yates, an actress whom he held in great esteem, 
delivered a poetical exordium of his composition. Beau- 
clerc, in a letter to Lord Charlemont, pronounced it very 

15 good, and predicted that it would soon be in all the papers. 
It does not appear, however, to have been ever published. 
In his fitful state of mind Goldsmith may have taken 
no care about it, and thus it has been lost to the world, 
although it was received with great applause by a crowded 

20 and brilliant audience. 

A gleam of sunshine breaks through the gloom that was 
gathering over the poet. Towards the end of the year he 
receives another Christmas invitation to Barton. A country 
Christmas! — with all the cordiality of the fireside circle, 

25 and the joyous revelry of the oaken hall, — what a contrast 
to the loneliness of a bachelor's chambers in the Temple ! 
It is not to be resisted. But how is poor Goldsmith to 
raise the ways and means ? His purse is empty ; his book- 
sellers are already in advance to him. As a last resource, 

30 he applies to Garrick. Their mutual intimacy at Barton 
may have suggested him as an alternative. The old loan 
of forty pounds has never been paid ; and Newbery's note, 
pledged as a security, has never been taken up. An addi- 
tional loan of sixty pounds is now asked for, thus increasing 



CHRISTMAS AT BARTON 329 

the loan to one hundred; to insure the payment, he now 
offers, besides Newbery's note, the transfer of the comedy 
of the "Good-natured Man" to Drury Lane, with such 
alterations as Garrick may suggest. Garrick, in reply, 
evades the offer of the altered comedy, alludes significantly 5 
to a new one which Goldsmith had talked of writing for 
him, and offers to furnish the money required on his own 
acceptance. 

The reply of Goldsmith bespeaks a heart brimful of grati- 
tude ^nd overflowing with fond anticipations of Barton and 10 
the smiles of its fair residents. " My dear friend," writes 
he, " I thank you. I wish I could do something to serve 
you. I shall have a comedy for you in a season or two, at 
farthest, that I believe will be worth your acceptance, for I 
fancy I will make it a fine thing. You shall have the refusal. 15 
... I will draw upon you one month after date for sixty 
pounds, and your acceptance will be ready money, pa7't of 
which I want to go down to Barto?i with. May God preserve 
my honest little man, for he has my heart. Ever, 

" Oliver Goldsmith." 20 

And having thus scrambled together a little pocket-money, 
by hard contrivance, poor Goldsmith turns his back upon 
care and trouble, and Temple quarters, to forget for a time 
his desolate bachelorhood in the family circle and a Christ- 
mas fireside at Barton. 25 

TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Mention pathetic incidents in the last days of the broken-spirited 
Goldsmith. 

2. Would a novel picturing imaginary incidents of the last days of 
Goldsmith's life differ in important particulars from a biography con- 
taining only the facts ? 



CHAPTER XLIV 

A Return to Drudgery; Forced Gayety; Retreat to the Country; The Poem of 
Retaliation — Portrait of Garrick; Of Goldsmith; Of Reynolds — Illness 
of the Poet ; His Death ; Grief of his Friends — A Last Word respecting 
the Jessamy Bride. 

The Barton festivities are over; Christmas, with all its 
home-felt revelry of the heart, has passed like a dream ; the 
Jessamy Bride has beamed her last smile upon the poor 
poet, and the early part of 1774 finds him in his now dreary 

5 bachelor abode in the Temple, toiling fitfully and hopelessly 
at a multiplicity of tasks. His "Animated Nature," so long 
delayed, so often interrupted, is at length announced for 
publication, though it has yet to receive a few finishing 
touches. He is preparing a third " History of England," to 

10 be compressed and condensed in one volume, for the use of 
schools. He is revising his "Inquiry into Polite Learning," 
for which he receives the pittance of five guineas, much 
needed in his present scantiness of purse ; he is arranging 
his " Survey of Experimental Philosophy," and he is trans- 

15 lating the "Comic Romance" of Scarron. Such is a part 
of the various labors of a drudging, depressing kind, by 
w^hich his head is made weary and his heart faint. "If there 
is a mental drudgery," says Sir Walter Scott, "which lowers 
the spirits and lacerates the nerves, like the toil of a slave, 

20 it is that which is exacted by literary composition, when the 
heart is not in unison with the work upon which the head is 
employed. Add to the unhappy author's task sickness, 
sorrow, or the pressure of unfavorable circumstances, and 
the labor of the bondsman becomes light in comparison." 

25 Goldsmith again makes an effort to rally his spirits by going 

330 



FORCED GAYETY 33 I 

into gay society. " Our Club," writes Beauclerc to Charle- 
mont, on the 12th of February, "has dwindled away to 
nothing. Sir Joshua and Goldsmith have got into such a 
round of pleasures that they have no time." This shows 
how little Beauclerc was the companion of the poet's mind, 5 
or could judge of him below the surface. Reynolds, the 
kind participator in joyless dissipation, could have told a 
different story of his companion's heart-sick gayety. 

In this forced mood Goldsmith gave entertainments in his 
chambers in the Temple ; the last of which was a dinner to 10 
Johnson, Reynolds, and others of his intimates, who partook 
with sorrow and reluctance of his imprudent hospitality. 
The first course vexed them by its needless profusion. 
When a second, equally extravagant, was served up, John- 
son and Reynolds declined to partake of it; the rest of the 15 
company, understanding their motives, followed their exam- 
ple, and the dishes went from the table untasted. Gold- 
smith felt sensibly this silent and well-intended rebuke. 

The gayeties of society, however, cannot medicine for any 
length of time a mind diseased. Wearied by the distrac- 20 
tions and harassed by the expenses of a town-life, which he 
had not the discretion to regulate. Goldsmith took the reso- 
lution, too tardily adopted, of retiring to the serene quiet, 
and cheap and healthful pleasures of the country, and of 
passing only two months of the year in London. He accord- 25 
ingly ii\ade arrangements to sell his right in the Temple 
chambers, and in the month of March retired to his country 
quarters at Hyde, there to devote himself to toil. At this 
dispirited juncture, when inspiration seemed to be at an end, 
and the poetic fire extinguished, a spark fell on his combus- 30 
tible imagination and set it in a blaze. 

He belonged to a temporary association of men of talent, 
some of them members of the Literary Club, who dined 
together occasionally at the St. James's Cofiee-House. At 



332 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

these dinners, as usual, he was one of the last to arrive. 
On one occasion, when he was more dilatory than usual, a 
whim seized the company to write epitaphs on him, as "The 
late Dr. Goldsmith," and several were thrown off in a play- 
5 ful vein, hitting off his peculiarities. The only one extant 
was written by Garrick, and has been preserved, very prob- 
ably, by its pungency : — 

" Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, 
Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor poll." 

10 Goldsmith did not relish the sarcasm, especially as coming 
from such a quarter. He was not very ready at repartee ; 
but he took his time, and in the interval of his various tasks 
concocted a series of epigrammatic sketches, under the title 
of "Retaliation," in which the characters of his distinguished 

15 intimates were admirably hit off, with a mixture of generous 
praise and good-humored raillery. In fact the poem, for its 
graphic truth, its nice discrimination, its terse good sense, 
and its shrewd knowledge of the world, must have electrified 
the^ club almost as much as the first appearance of " The 

20 Traveller," and let them still deeper into the character and 

talents of the man they had been accustomed to consider as 

their butt. " Retaliation," in a word, closed his accounts 

with the club, and balanced all his previous deficiencies. 

The portrait of David Garrick is one of the most elabo- 

25 rate in the poem. When the poet came to touch it off, 
he had some lurking piques to gratify, which the recent 
attack had revived. He may have forgotten David's cava- 
lier treatment of him, in the early days of his comparative 
obscurity; he may have forgiven his refusal of his plays; 

30 but Garrick had been capricious in his conduct in the times 
of their recent intercourse : sometimes treating him with 
gross familiarity, at other times affecting dignity and reserve, 
and assuming airs of superiority ; frequently he had been 
facetious and witty in company at his expense, and lastly 



DAVID GARRICK 333 

he had been guilty of the couplet just quoted. Goldsmith, 
therefore, touched oE the lights and shadows of his char- 
acter with a free hand, and at the same time gave a side-hit 
at his old rival, Kelly, and his critical persecutor, Kenrick, 
in making them sycophantic satellites of the actor. Gold- 5 
smith, however, was void of gall even in his revenge, and 
his very satire was more humorous than caustic : — 

" Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can, 
An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man ; 
As an actor, confess'd without rival to shine; 10 

As a wit, if not first, in the very first line: 
Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart, 
The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. 
Like an ill-judging beauty, his colors he spread, 
And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red. 15 

On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting; 
'Twas only that when he was off he was acting. 
With no reason on earth to go out of his way, 
He turn'd and he varied full ten times a day: 

Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick 20 

If they were not his own by finessing and trick: 
He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, 
For he knew, when he pleased, he could whistle them back. 
Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, 
And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame ; 25 

Till his relish, grown callous almost to disease, 
Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. 
But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, 
If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. 

Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave, 30 

What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gave! 
How did Grub Street reecho the shouts that you raised 
While he was be-Rosciused and you were be-praised ! 
But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, 

To act as an angel and mix with the skies: 35 

Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill, 
Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will ; 
Old Shakspeare receive him with praise and with love, 
And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above." 



334 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

This portion of " Retaliation " soon brought a retort from 
Garrick, which we insert, as giving something of a likeness 
of Goldsmith, though in broad caricature: — 

" Here, Hermes, says Jove, who with nectar was mellow, 
5 Go fetch me some clay — I will make an odd fellow : 

Right and wrong shall be jumbled, much gold and some dross. 

Without cause be he pleased, without cause be he cross ; 

Be sure, as I work, to throw in contradictions, 

A great love of truth, yet a mind turn'd to fictions ; 
JO Now mix these ingredients, which, warm'd in the baking, 

Turn'd to learning and gaming, religion, and rakijtg. 

With the love of a wench let his writings be chaste; 

Tip his tongue with strange matter, his lips with fine taste ; 

That the rake and the poet o'er all may prevail, 
1 5 Set fire to the head and set fire to the tail ; 

For the joy of each sex on the world I '11 bestow it, 

This scholar, rake, Christian, dupe, gamester, and poet. 

Though a mixture so odd, he shall merit great fame. 

And among brother mortals be Goldsmith his name ; 
20 When on earth this strange meteor no more shall appear. 

You, Hermes, shall fetch him, to make us sport here." 

The charge of raking, so repeatedly advanced in the fore- 
going lines, must be considered a sportive one, founded, 
perhaps, on an incident or two within Garrick's knowledge, 

25 but not borne out by the course of Goldsmith's life. He 
seems to have had a tender sentiment for the sex, but per- 
fectly free from libertinism. Neither was he an habitual 
gamester. The strictest scrutiny has detected no settled 
vice of the kind. He was fond of a game of cards, but an 

30 unskilful and careless player. Cards in those days were 
universally introduced into society. High play was, in fact, 
a fashionable amusement, as at one time was deep drink- 
ing; and a man might occasionally lose large sums, and be 
beguiled into deep potations, without incurring the character 

35 of a gamester or a drunkard. Poor Goldsmith, on his advent 
into high society, assumed fine notions with fine clothes; he 



CARD PLAYING 335 

was thrown occasionally among high players, men of fortune 
who could sport their cool hundred as carelessly as his early 
comrades at Ballymahon could their half-crowns. Being at 
all times magnificent in money-matters, he may have played 
with them in their own way, without considering that what 5 
was sport to them to him was ruin. Indeed, part of his finan- 
cial embarrassments may have arisen from losses of the kind, 
incurred inadvertently, not in the indulgence of a habit. 
" I do not believe Goldsmith to have deserved the name of 
gamester," said one of his contemporaries; "he liked cards 10 
very well, as other people do, and lost and won occasionally, 
but as far as I saw or heard, and I had many opportunities 
of hearing, never any considerable sum. If he gamed with 
any one, it was probably with Beauclerc, but I do not know 
that such was the case." 15 

" Retaliation," as we have already observed, was thrown 
off in parts, at intervals, and was never completed. Some 
characters, originally intended to be introduced, remained 
unattempted ; others were but partially sketched — such as 
the one of Reynolds, the friend of his heart, and which he 20 
commenced with a felicity which makes us regret that it 
should remain unfinished. 

" Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, 
He has not left a wiser or better behind. 

His pencil was striking,^esistless, and grand ; 25 

His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; 
Still born to improve us in every part, 
His pencil our faces, his manners our heart. 
To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, 

When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing ; 30 
When they talked of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, 
He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff. 
By flattery unspoiled " 

The friendly portrait stood unfinished on the easel ; 
the hand of the artist had failed 1 An access of a local 35 



336 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

complaint, under which he had suffered for some time past, 
added to a general prostration of health, brought Goldsmith 
back to town before he had well settled himself in the 
country. The local complaint subsided, but was followed by 

5 a low nervous fever. He was not aware of his critical situa- 
tion, and intended to be at the club on the 25th of March, 
on which occasion Charles Fox, Sir Charles Bunbury (one 
of the Horneck connection), and two other new members 
were to be present. In the afternoon, however, he felt so 

10 unwell as-to take to his bed, and his symptoms soon acquired 
sufficient force to keep him there. His malady fluctuated 
for several days, and hopes were entertained of his recovery, 
but they proved fallacious. He had skilful medical aid and 
faithful nursing, but he would not follow the advice of his 

15 physicians, and persisted in the use of James's powders, 
which he had once found beneficial, but which were now 
injurious to him. His appetite was gone, his strength failed 
him, but his mind remained clear, and was perhaps too active 
for his frame. Anxieties and disappointments which had 

20 previously sapped his constitution, doubtless aggravated his 
present complaint and rendered him sleepless. In reply 
to an inquiry of his physician, he acknowledged that his 
mind was ill at ease. This was his last reply; he was too 
weak to talk, and in general took no notice t)f what was 

25 said to him. He sank at last mto a deep sleep, and it 
was hoped a favorable crisis had arrived. He awoke, 
however, in strong convulsions, which continued without 
intermission until he expired, on the fourth of April, at five 
o'clock in the morning ; being in the forty-sixth year of 

30 his age. 

His death was a shock to the Hterary world, and a deep 
affliction to a wide circle of intimates and friends ; for, with 
all his foibles and peculiarities, he was fully as much beloved 
as he was admired. Burke, on hearing the news, burst into 



GRIEF OF HIS FRIENDS 337 

tears. Sir Joshua Reynolds threw by his pencil for the day, 
and grieved more than he had done in times of great family 
distress. " I was abroad at the time of his death," writes 
Dr. M'Donnell, the youth whom when in distress he had 
employed as an amanuensis, " and I wept bitterly when the 5 
intelligence first reached me. A blank came over my heart 
as if I had lost one of my nearest relatives, and was followed 
for some days by a feeling of despondency." Johnson felt 
the blow deeply and gloomily. In writing some time after- 
wards to Bos well, he observed, "Of poor Dr. Goldsmith 10 
there is little to be told more than the papers have made 
public. He died of a fever, made, I am afraid, more vio- 
lent by uneasiness of mind. His debts began to be heavy, 
and all his resources were exhausted. Sir Joshua is of 
opinion that he owed no less than two thousand pounds. 15 
Was ever poet so trusted before ? " 

Among his debts were seventy-nine pounds due to his 
tailor, Mr. William Filby, from whom he had received a 
new suit but a few days before his death. " My father," 
said the younger Filby, " though a loser to that amount, 20 
attributed no blame to Goldsmith ; he had been a good cus- 
tomer, and, had he lived, would have paid every farthing." 
Others of his tradespeople evinced the same confidence in 
his integrity, notwithstanding his heedlessness. Two sister 
milliners in Temple Lane, who had been accustomed to deal 25 
with him, were concerned when told, some time before his 
death, of his pecuniary embarrassments. " Oh, sir," said 
they to Mr. Cradock, " sooner persuade him to let us work 
for him gratis than apply to any other ; we are sure he will 
pay us when he can." 30 

On the stairs of his apartment there was the lamentation 
of the old and infirm, and the sobbing of women ; poor 
objects of his charity, to whom he had never turned a deaf 
ear, even when struggling himself with poverty. 



338 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

But there was one mourner whose enthusiasm for his 
memory, could it have been foreseen, might have soothed 
the bitterness of death. After the coffin had been screwed 
down, a lock of his hair was requested for a lady, a partic- 
5 ular friend, who wished to preserve it as a remembrance. It 
was the beautiful Mary Horneck - — the Jessamy Bride. The 
coffin was opened again, and a lock of hair cut off; which 
she treasured to her dying day. Poor Goldsmith ! could he 
have foreseen that such a memorial of him was to be thus 

10 cherished! 

One word more concerning this lady, to whom we have so 
often ventured to advert. She survived almost to the present 
day. Hazlitt met her at Northcote's painting-room, about 
twenty years since, as Mrs. Gwyn, the widow of a General 

15 Gwyn of the army. She was at that time upwards of seventy 
years of age. Still, he said, she was beautiful, beautiful even 
in years. After she was gone, Hazlitt remarked how hand- 
some she still was. " I do not know," said Northcote, " why 
she is so kind as to come to see me, except that I am the 

20 last link in the chain that connects her with all those she 
most esteemed when young — Johnson, Reynolds, Goldsmith 
— and remind her of the most dehghtful period of her life." 
"Not only so," observed Hazlitt, "but you remember what 
she was at twenty ; and you thus bring back to her the 

25 triumphs of her youth — that pride of beauty, which must 
be the more fondly cherished as it has no external vouchers, 
and lives chiefly in the bosom of its once lovely possessor. 
In her, however, the Graces had triumphed over time ; she 
was one of Ninon de I'Enclos's people, of the last of the 

30 immortals. I could almost fancy the shade of Goldsmith 
in the room, looking round with complacency." 

The Jessamy Bride survived her sister upwards of forty 
years, and died in 1840, within a few days of completing her 
eighty-eighth year. " She had gone through all the stages of 



THE JESSAMY BRIDE 339 

life," says Northcote, " and had lent a grace to each." How- 
ever gayly she may have sported with the half-concealed 
admiration of the poor awkward poet in the heyday of her 
youth and beauty, and however much it may have been made 
a subject of teasing by her youthful companions, she evi- 
dently prided herself in after-years upon having been an 
object of his affectionate regard ; it certainly rendered her 
interesting throughout life in the eyes of his admirers, and 
has hung a poetical wreath above her grave. 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Why does Irving in Chapters XLIII and XLIV emphasize the 
dreariness of Goldsmith's bachelor life ? 

2. Is the first paragraph of this chapter unified ? 

3. Was " the late Dr. Goldsmith " a good pun ? [See also question 3, 
Chapter XI.] 

4. The last illness of Goldsmith. 

5. Does this chapter rouse in the reader's mind admiration, pity, 
sympathy, or censure for Goldsmith .'* 



CHAPTER XLV 

The Funeral — The Monument — The Epitaph — Concluding Remarks. 

In the warm feeling of the moment, while the remains of 
the poet were scarce cold, it was determined by his friends 
to honor them by a public funeral and a tomb in Westmin- 
ster Abbey. His very pall-bearers were designated: Lord 
5 Shelburne, Lord Lowth, Sir Joshua Reynolds ; the Hon. 
Mr. Beauclerc, Mr. Burke, and David Garrick. This feeling 
cooled down, however, when it was discovered that he died 
in debt, and had not left wherewithal to pay for such expen- 
sive obsequies. Five days after his death, therefore, at five 

10 o'clock of Saturday evening, the 9th of April, he was pri- 
vately interred in the burying-ground of the Temple Church; 
a few persons attending as mourners, among whom we do not 
find specified any of his peculiar and distinguished friends. 
The chief mourner was Sir Joshua Reynolds's nephew. Palmer, 

15 afterwards Dean of Cashel. One person, however, from whom 
it was but little to be expected, attended the funeral and 
evinced real sorrow on the occasion. This was Hugh Kelly, 
once the dramatic rival of the deceased, and often, it is said, 
his anonymous assailant in the newspapers. If he had really 

20 been guilty of this basest of literary offences, he was punished 
by the stings of remorse, for we are told that he shed bitter 
tears over the grave of the man he had injured. His tardy 
atonement only provoked the lash of some unknown satirist, 
as the following lines will show : — 

25 '* Hence Kelly, who years, without honor or shame, 

Had been sticking his bodkin in Oliver's fame, 
Who thought, like the Tartar, by this to inherit 
340 



THE MALIGNANCY OF KENRICK 341 

His genius, his learning, simplicity, spirit ; 
Now sets every feature to weep o'er his fate, 
And acts as a mourner to blubber in state." 

One base wretch deserves to be mentioned, the reptile 
Kenrick, who, after having repeatedly slandered Goldsmith, 5 
while living, had the audacity to insult his memory when 
dead. The following distich is sufficient to show his malig- 
nancy, and to hold him up to execration : — 

" By his own art, who justly died, 
A blund'ring, artless suicide: 10 

Share, earthworms, share, since now he 's dead. 
His megrim, maggot-bitten head." 

This scurrilous epitaph produced a burst of public indig- 
nation, that awed for a time even the infamous Kenrick into 
silence. On the other hand, the press teemed with tributes 15 
in verse and prose to the memory of the deceased; all evin- 
cing the mingled feeling of admiration for the author and 
affection for the man. 

Not long after his death the Literary Club set on foot a 
subscription, and raised a fund to erect a monument to his 20 
memory, in Westminster Abbey. It was executed by Nolle- 
kens, and consisted simply of a bust of the poet in profile, 
in high relief, in a medallion, and was placed in the area of a 
pointed arch, over the south door in Poets' Corner, between 
the monuments of Gay and the Duke of Argyle. Johnson 25 
furnished a Latin epitaph, which was read at the table of 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, where several members of the club 
and other friends of the deceased were present. Though 
considered by them a masterly composition, they thought the 
literary character of the poet not defined with sufficient exact- 30 
ness, and they preferred that the epitaph should be in English 
rather than Latin, as " the memory of so eminent an English 
writer ought to be perpetuated in the language to which his 
works were likely to be so lasting an ornament." 



342 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

These objections were reduced to writing, to be respect 
fully submitted to Johnson, but such was the awe entertained 
of his frown, that every one shrank from putting his name 
first to the instrument ; whereupon their names were written 

5 about it in a circle, making what mutinous sailors call a 
Round Robin. Johnson received it half graciously, half 
grimly. "He was willing," he said, "to modify the sense 
of the epitaph in any manner the gentlemen pleased ; but he 
7iever would consent to disgrace the walls of Westminster 

lo Abbey with aii English inscription.^' Seeing the names of 
Dr. Warton and Edmund Burke among the signers, " he 
wondered," he said, " that Joe Warton, a scholar by pro- 
fession, should be such a fool ; and should have thought 
that Mund Burke would have had more sense." The fol- 

15 lowing is the epitaph as it stands inscribed on a white 
marble tablet beneath the bust: — 

"OLIVARII GOLDSMITH,! 

Poetas, Physici, Historici, 
Qui nullum fere scribendi genus 
20 Non tetigit, 

Nullum quod tetigit non ornavit: 

Sive risus essent movendi, 

Sive lacrymae, 

Affectuum potens at lenis dominator : 

2c Ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis, 



•1 The following translation is from Croker's edition of Boswell's "Johnson " : — 



"OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH — 

A Poet, Naturalist, and Historian, 

Who left scarcely any style of writing 

Untouched, 

And touched nothing that he did not adorn ; 

Of all the passions, 

Whether smiles were to be moved 

Or tears, 

A powerful yet gentle master ; 

In genius, sublime, vivid, versatile, 



THE EPITAPH 343 

Oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus : 
Hoc monumento memoriam coluit 
Sodalium amor, 
Amicorum fides, 
Lectorum veneratio. 5 

Natus in Hibernia Forniae Longfordiensis, 
In loco cui nomen Pallas, 

Nov. XXIX. MDCCXXXI.; 

Eblanae Uteris institutus ; 

Obiit Londini, 10 

April IV. MDCCLXXiv." 1 

We shall not pretend to follow these anecdotes of the life 
of Goldsmith with any critical dissertation on his writings ; 
their merits have long since been fully discussed, and their 
station in the scale of literary merit permanently established. 15 
They have outlasted generations of works of higher power 
and wider scope, and will continue to outlast succeeding 
generations, for they have that magic charm of style by 
which works are embalmed to perpetuity. Neither shall we 
attempt a regular analysis of the character of the poet, but 20 
will indulge in a few desultory remarks in addition to those 
scattered throughout the preceding chapters. 

Never was the trite, because sage apophthegm, that "The 
child is father to the man," more fully verified than in the 
case of Goldsmith. He is shy, awkward, and blundering in 25 



In style, elevated, clear, elegant — 

The love of companions, 

The fidelity of friends, 

And the veneration of readers, 

Have by this monument honored the memory. 

He was bom in Ireland, 

At a place called Pallas, 

[In the parish] of Forney, [and county] of Longford, 

On the 29th Nov., 1731, 

Educated at [the University of] Dublin, 

And died in London, 

4th April, 1774." 

1 Not correct. The true date of birth was loth Nov. 1728, as given on p. 6. 



344 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

childhood, yet full of sensibility; he is a butt for the jeers 
and jokes of his companions, but apt to surprise and con- 
found them by sudden and witty repartees ; he is dull and 
stupid at his tasks, yet an eager and intelligent devourer of 
5 the travelling tales and campaigning stories of his half 
military pedagogue ; he may be a dunce, but he is already a 
rhymer; and his early scintillations of poetry awaken the 
expectations of his friends. He seems from infancy to have 
been compounded of two natures, one bright, the other 

10 blundering; or to have had fairy gifts laid in his cradle by 
the "good people" who haunted his birthplace, the old 
goblin mansion on the banks of the Inny. 

He carries with him the wayward elfin spirit, if we may 
so term it, throughout his career. His fairy gifts are of no 

15 avail at school, academy, or college: they unfit him for 
close study and practical science, and render him heedless 
of everything that does not address itself to his poetical 
imagination and genial and festive feelings ; they dispose 
him to break away from restraint, to stroll about hedges, 

20 green lanes, and haunted streams, to revel with jovial com- 
panions, or to rove the country like a gypsy in quest of odd 
adventures. 

As if confiding in these delusive gifts, he takes no heed 
of the present nor care for the future, lays no regular and 

25 solid foundation of knowledge, follows out no plan, adopts 
and discards those recommended by his friends, at one time 
prepares for the ministry, next turns to the law, and then 
fixes upon medicine. He repairs to Edinburgh, the great 
emporium of medical science, but the fairy gifts accompany 

30 him ; he idles and frolics away his time there, imbibing only 
such knowledge as is agreeable to him ; makes an excursion 
to the poetical regions of the Highlands ; and having walked 
the hospitals for the customary time, sets off to ramble over 
the Continent, in quest of novelty rather than knowledge. 



CONCLUDING REMARKS 345 

His whole tour is a poetical one. He fancies he is playing 
the philosopher while he is really playing the poet; and 
though professedly he attends lectures and visits foreign 
universities, so deficient is he on his return, in the studies 
for which he set out, that he fails in an examination as a 5 
surgeon's mate ; and while figuring as a doctor of medicine, 
is outvied on a point of practice by his apothecary. Baffled 
in every regular pursuit, after trying in vain some of the 
humbler callings of commonplace life, he is driven almost 
by chance to the exercise of his pen, and here the fairy 10 
gifts come to his assistance. For a long time, however, he 
seems unaware of the magic properties of that pen : he uses 
it only as a makeshift until he can find a legitimate means 
of support. He is not a learned man, and can write but 
meagrely and at second-hand on learned subjects; but he 15 
has a quick convertible talent that seizes lightly on the 
points of knowledge necessary to the illustration of a theme: 
his writings for a time are desultory, the fruits of what he 
has seen and felt, or what he has recently and hastily read ; 
but his gifted pen transmutes everything into gold, and his 20 
own genial nature reflects its sunshine through his pages. 

Still unaware of his powers he throws off his writings 
anonymously, to go with the writings of less favored men; 
and it is a long time, and after a bitter struggle with poverty 
and humiliation, before he acquires confidence in his liter- 25 
ary talent as a means of support, and begins to dream of 
reputation. 

From this time his pen is a wand of power in his hand, 
and he has only to use it discreetly, to make it competent 
to all his wants. But discretion is not a part of Goldsmith's 30 
nature; and it seems the property of these fairy gifts to be 
accompanied by moods and temperaments to render their 
effect precarious. The heedlessness of his early days; his 
disposition for social enjoyment ; his habit of throwing the 



346 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

present on the neck of the future, still continue. His 
expenses forerun his means; he incurs debts on the faith 
of what his magic pen is to produce, and then, under the 
pressure of his debts, sacrifices its productions for prices 
5 far below their value. It is a redeeming circumstance in 
his prodigality that it is lavished oftener upon others than 
upon himself: he gives without thought or stint, and is the 
continual dupe of his benevolence and his trustfulness in 
human nature. We may say of him as he says of one of 

10 his heroes, " He could not stifle the natural impulse which 
he had to do good, but frequently borrowed money to relieve 
the distressed; and when he knew not conveniently where 
to borrow, he has been observed to shed tears as he passed 
through the wretched suppliants who attend his gate." . . . 

15 "His simplicity in trusting persons whom he had no 
previous reasons to place confidence in, seems to be one 
of those lights of his character which, while they impeach 
his understanding, do honor to his benevolence. The low 
and the timid are ever suspicious ; but a heart impressed 

20 with honorable sentiments, expects from others sympathetic 
sincerity."^ 

His heedlessness in pecuniary matters, which had ren- 
dered his life a struggle with poverty even in the days of 
his obscurity, rendered the struggle still more intense when 

25 his fairy gifts had elevated him into the society of the wealthy 

and luxurious, and imposed on his simple and generous spirit 

fancied obligations to a more ample and bounteous display. 

" How comes it," says a recent and ingenious critic, " that 

in all the miry paths of life which he had trod, no speck ever 

30 sullied the robe of his modest and graceful Muse. How 
amidst all that love of inferior company, which never to the 
last forsook him, did he keep his genius so free from every 
touch of vulgarity? " 

1 Goldsmith's Life of Nash. 



CONCLUDING REMARKS 347 

We answer that it was owing to tiie innate purity and 
goodness of his nature; there was nothing in it that assimi- 
lated to vice and vulgarity. Though his circumstances 
often compelled him to associate with the poor, they never 
could betray him into companionship with the depraved. 5 
His relish for humor and for the study of character, as we 
have before observed, brought him often into convivial com- 
pany of a vulgar kind ; but he discriminated between their 
vulgarity and their amusing qualities, or rather wrought from 
the whole those familiar pictures of life which form the 10 
staple of his most popular writings. 

Much, too, of this intact purity of heart may be ascribed 
to the lessons of his infancy under the paternal roof ; to the 
gentle, benevolent, elevated, unworldly maxims of his father, 
who "passing rich with forty pounds a year," infused a spirit 15 
into his child which riches could not deprave nor poverty 
degrade. Much of his boyhood, too, had been passed in 
the household of his uncle, the amiable and generous Con- 
tarine ; where he talked of literature with the good pastor, 
and practised music with his daughter, and delighted them 20 
both by his juvenile attempts at poetry. These early asso- 
ciations breathed a grace and refinement into his mind and 
tuned it up, after the rough sports on the green, or the 
frolics at the tavern. These led him to turn from the roar- 
ing glees of the club, to listen to the harp of his cousin 25 
Jane ; and from the rustic triumph of " throwing sledge," to 
a stroll with his flute along the pastoral banks of the Inny. 

The gentle spirit of his father walked with him through 
life, a pure and virtuous monitor ; and in all the vicissitudes 
of his career we find him ever more chastened in mind by 30 
the sweet and holy recollections of the home of his infancy. 

It has been questioned whether he really had any reli- 
gious feeling. Those who raise the question have never con- 
sidered well his writings ; his "Vicar of Wakefield," and his 



348 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

pictures of the Village Pastor, present religion under its 
most endearing forms, and with a feeling that could only 
flow from the deep convictions of the heart. When his fair 
travelling companions at Paris urged him to read the Church 
5 Service on a Sunday, he replied that " he was not worthy to 
do it." He had seen in early life the sacred offices performed 
by his father and his brother with a solemnity which had 
sanctified them in his memory; how could he presume to 
undertake such functions? His religion has been called in 

lo question by Johnson and by Boswell: he certainly had not 
the gloomy hypochondriacal piety of the one, nor the bab- 
bling mouth-piety of the other; but the spirit of Christian 
charity, breathed forth in his writings and illustrated in his 
conduct, give us reason to believe he had the indwelling 

15 religion of the soul. 

We have made sufficient comments in the preceding chap- 
ters on his conduct in elevated circles of literature and 
fashion. The fairy gifts which took him there were not 
accompanied by the gifts and graces necessary to sustain him 

20 in that artificial sphere. He can neither play the learned 
sage with Johnson, nor the fine gentleman with Beauclerc ; 
though he has a mind replete with wisdom and natural 
shrewdness, and a spirit free from vulgarity. The blunders 
of a fertile but hurried intellect, and the awkward display 

25 of the student assuming the man of fashion, fix on him a 
character for absurdity and vanity which, like the charge of 
lunacy, it is hard to disprove, however weak the grounds of 
the charge and strong the facts in opposition to it. 

In truth, he is never truly in his place in these learned 

30 and fashionable circles, which talk and live for display. It 
is not the kind of society he craves. His heart yearns for 
domestic life ; it craves familiar, confiding intercourse, family 
firesides, the guileless and happy company of children ; these 
bring out the heartiest and sweetest sympathies of his nature. 



CONCLUDING REMARKS 349 

" Had it been his fate," says the critic we have already- 
quoted, " to meet a woman who could have loved him, despite 
his faults, and respected him despite his foibles, we cannot 
but think that his life and his genius would have been much 
more harmonious; his desultory affections would have been 5 
concentrated, his craving self-love appeased, his pursuits more 
settled, his character more solid. A nature like Goldsmith's, 
so affectionate, so confiding — so susceptible to simple, inno- 
cent enjoyments — so dependent on others for the sunshine 
of existence, does not flower if deprived of the atmosphere 10 
of home." 

The cravings of his heart in this respect are evident, we 
think, throughout his career ; and if we have dwelt with 
more significancy than others upon his intercourse with the 
beautiful Horneck family, it is because we fancied we could 15 
detect, amid his playful attentions to one of its members, a 
lurking sentiment of tenderness, kept down by conscious 
poverty and a humiliating idea of personal defects. A 
hopeless feeling of this kind — the last a man would com- 
municate to his friends — might account for much of that fit- 20 
fulness of conduct, and that gathering melancholy, remarked, 
but not comprehended by his associates, during the last year 
or two of his life ; and may have been one of the troubles of 
the mind which aggravated his last illness, and only termi- 
nated with his death. 25 

We shall conclude these desultory remarks with a few 
which have been used by us on a former occasion. From 
the general tone of Goldsmith's biography, it is evident that 
his faults, at the worst, were but negative, while his merits 
were great and decided. He was no one's enemy but his 30 
own ; his errors, in the main, inflicted evil on none but him- 
self, and were so blended with humorous and even affecting 
circumstances, as to disarm anger and conciliate kindness. 
Where eminent talent is united to spotless virtue, we are 



350 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

awed and dazzled into admiration, but our admiration is apt 
to be cold and reverential ; while there is something in the 
harmless infirmities of a good and great, but erring indi- 
vidual, that pleads touchingly to our nature ; and we turn 
5 more kindly towards the object of our idolatry, when we 
find that, like ourselves, he is mortal and is frail. The 
epithet so often heard, and in such kindly tones, of "poor 
Goldsmith," speaks volumes. Few, who consider the real 
compound of admirable and whimsical qualities which form 

lo his character, would wish to prune away its eccentricities, 
trim its grotesque luxuriance, and clip it down to the decent 
formalities of rigid virtue. '^ Let not his frailties be remem- 
bered," said Johnson; "he was a very great man." But, 
for our part, we rather say, " Let them be remembered," 

15 since their tendency is to endear; and we question whether 
he himself would not feel gratified in hearing his reader, 
after dwelling with admiration on the proofs of his great- 
ness, close the volume with the kind-hearted phrase, so 
fondly and familiarly ejaculated, of " Poor Goldsmith." 



TOPICS AND QUESTIONS 

1. Is Irving's attitude to Kenrick justifiable? 

2. The incident of the Round Robin. Where in recent American 
history has the Round Robin been used ? 

3. Anecdotes of the life of Goldsmith. Is Irving's biography any- 
thing more than a series of anecdotes ? 

4. What drove Goldsmith to the use of his pen ? 

5. Analysis of Goldsmith's character. 

6. Goldsmith's fairy gifts. 

7. The epitaph by Johnson. Would it better have been written in 
English ? 



GENERAL TOPICS 

1. How does a biography such as Irving's " Oliver Goldsmith" or 
Boswell's "Life of Johnson" differ in scope and in method of treatment 
from an essay such as Macaulay's on Goldsmith or Carlyle's on Burns ? 

2. Is there anything in Goldsmith's own life that corresponds with 
the chapter in "The Vicar of Wakefield" on the vicar's experiences in 
prison ? 

3. What were some of the clubs to which Goldsmith belonged 
during his life ? Why^had he a fondness for clubs ? Where did these 
associations meetp^ 

4. Goldsmith's experiences as a teacher. From your point of view 
as a student, does teaching seem an easy occupation ? 

5. Enumerate Goldsmith's different dwelling places in London, and 
give incidents connected with his residence at each. 

6. Prepare a five-minute talk on clubs and coffee-houses of the 
eighteenth century in London. \Hi71t. — After you have brought your 
material together it would be v^ell to prepare a little outline containing 
the main divisions of your talk, as a help in case you should become 
embarrassed and forget what comes next.] 

7. Periodical publications of the eighteenth century. [Let Chapter 
XVII be the starting point for working up this subject.] 

8. Goldsmith's relations with his publisher, Newbery. 

9. Make a collection from Irving's biography of the best ten anec- 
dotes about Goldsmith. 

10. Give a detailed account, made up from references here and there 
in the biography, of the influence of the Jessamy Bride on Goldsmith. 
[First prepare careful outline.] 

11. Goldsmith as a talker. 

12. What instances of repetition of thought are to be found in 
Irving's " Oliver Goldsmith " } 

13. Comment on the rhetorical quality proportion as seen in 
Irving's " Oliver Goldsmith." (a) How much space relatively is given 

351 



352 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

to the years 1728-1758, 1758-1768, 1768-1773, 1774? {i) Compare 
the amount of space devoted to the years' from one to thirty, with the 
number of pages treating of the life from thirty to forty. 

14. Write a biography of Goldsmith, grouping your material in four 
or five paragraphs, each of a page or two in length, and preserving, as 
far as possible, the proportionate scale of treatment adopted by Irving. 
Then reduce your four or five paragraphs to a single pararaph of exactly 
one hundred words. Observe closely the nature of the matter that you 
find must be cut out. 

15. Explain what Goldsmith did for the drama. 

16. The profession of the playwright in the eighteenth century. 

17. Influence of Goldsmith on succeeding novelists. 

18. Mention three novelists of the eighteenth century and tell some- 
thing of the nature of the work of each. 

19. Early English dictionaries. 

20. The difficulties and pleasures of travel during the time of 
Goldsmith. 

21. Characteristics of the form of literature called the essay as 
written about 1750. 

22. Life at Dublin or Oxford or Cambridge University a hundred 
and fifty years ago. Were there any colleges in America at this time ? 

23. The life and work of an eighteenth-century curate as presented 
in Goldsmith's works. 

24. Find in this volume and elsewhere details about the life and 
personality of the following men, and prepare a ten-minute talk on 
Goldsmith's friends and acquaintances during the last ten years of 
his life : Samuel Johnson, Joshua Reynolds, Edmund Burke, Bennet 
Langton, Topham Beauclerc, David Garrick, Sir John Hawkins, James 
Boswell, Charles Fox, Thomas Percy, Hugh Percy (Duke of North- 
umberland), John and Francis Newbery, George Colman, William 
Hogarth, George III, William Blackstone, Augustus Toplady, Samuel 
Foote, Joseph Cradock, and Joseph Warton. 

25. Divide the material of the biography into eight or ten chapters 
instead of forty-five, giving an appropriate title for each of your pro- 
posed chapters. [Consider the advisability of making time and place 
the basis- for the division. Notice, for example, the titles of some of 



GENERAL TOPICS 353 

Charles Dudley Warner's chapters in his "Life of Irving": "Boyhood," 
" Manhood," " In Spain," " Return to America," etc.] 

26. Locate on map in article on London in Johnson's " Universal 
Cyclopaedia": Islington, Covent Garden, Temple, Temple Bar, New- 
gate, Holborn, and Ludgate Hill. Are there detailed maps of London 
in any other reference books to which you have access ? 

27. Run through the Notes and select those which point out indi- 
cations of hasty, slipshod writing by Irving. Jot down any other 
indications of this sort that are to be found in the biography. What 
good features of Irving's style more than counterbalance occasional 
inaccuracies in sentence structure and in use of words ? 

28. Name the works of Goldsmith from which Irving has made quo- 
tations in his biography. 

29. Make an outline of Goldsmith's life as teacher, as medical man, 
and as writer. 

30. Complete the following geographical outline of Doctor Gold- 
smith's life, with appropriate divisions and subdivisions. 

A. Ireland. 

a. Born at Pallas, 1728. 

b. Scene of his boyhood. 

1. Farm near Lissoy. 

2. Description of household. 

c. Education. 

1. Mistress Elizabeth Delap. 

2. Paddy Byrne. 

3. Rev. Mr. Grififin, etc. 

B. Scotland. 

C. The Continent. 

D. England. 



NOTES 



The Notes include comments on the diction of Irving, with an eye 
to stimulating the pupil to more work of this sort for himself. The 
study of vocabulary is unending, and should be continued throughout 
the school course till the habit of weighing the value of words has 
become second nature. In the notes on proper names, more attention 
has been paid to names of persons, places, and books that could not 
be found in the reference volumes of a small school library than to 
words which can readily be looked up in an encyclopedia or a diction- 
ary of names. Biographical details, for instance, regarding men like 
Burke, Johnson, Gibbon, Sterne, Addison, and other famous English 
writers, are omitted because the student can find abundance of such 
material in any history of English literature. It is not the aim of the 
present edition to do the pupil's work for him. Information is given, 
however, where needed. 

Page 4. the beautiful apostrophe. In Life and Letters of Irving, 
by P. M. Irving, Vol. Ill, page i6o, will be found the following trans- 
lation of the apostrophe : 

" Thou art my master, and my teacher thou ; 
It was from thee and thee alone, I took 
That noble style for which men honor me." 

Because of this tribute of admiration a reviewer, at the time of the 
first publication of Irving's Oliver Goldsmith : A Biography, called 
Irving a self -acknowledged imitator of Goldsmith. Irving in comment- 
ing on this review said to his nephew Pierre that he was never con- 
scious of an attempt to write after any model ; he believed his style 
to be as much his own as if Goldsmith had never written anything. 

7 31. the original of his "Auburn." See the discussion of this point 
in the note which Irving appends to Chapter XXVIII. _ 

10 3. hornbook. Good specimens of hornbooks are rare. Occasion- 
ally a collection of facsimiles of these early children's primers is on 
exhibition at one of the New York publishing houses. Why the horn- 
book is so called may be learned from the dictionary. 

10 15. wars of Queen Anne's time. For the name Queen Anne, see 
an encyclopedia or an English history, or else question your history 
teacher. Similarly look up in an encyclopedia other proper names in 

355 



356 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

the biography, such as ^sop, in this chapter, if you feel that you can 
understand Irving's idea better by knowing to what the proper name 
refers. 

11 3. gauge. This term is of especial interest in connection with the 
life of a British poet whose troubles were even more pressing than 
those of Goldsmith, i.e. Robert Burns. For instance, observe the use 
of the word in the following sentence from Carlyle's Essay on Burns : 
" And this was he for whom the world found no fitter business than 
quarreling with smugglers and vintners, computing excise dues upon 
tallow, and gauging z\e barrels." The note at the bottom of page 72 
of Ginn & Company's edition of Carlyle's Burns contains a clear expla- 
nation of the meaning of " gauge." If once understood in this connec- 
tion, the word will hereafter have literary associations for you, and 
will seem more than a mere dictionary word. 

13 17. living. A term used in the Church of England either with 
reference to the office of a person who received certain church revenues 
in return for performing various duties, or with reference to the revenue 
itself. When a living was in the gift of the king it was called a "crown- 
living" (Murray's New English Dictionary). 

18 28. entered Trinity College. Black, in his Goldsmith, page 11, 
records that though Oliver managed somehow or other to pass the 
necessary examination he was the last in the list. 

18 31. sizer. Sometimes spelled sizar. In the fifth paragraph of 
the life of Goldsmith by Macaulay, first printed in the Encydopcedia 
Britannica in 1856, will be found the following additional explanation 
of " sizar " : " The sizars paid nothing for food and tuition, and very 
little for lodging ; but they had to perform some menial services from 
which they have long been relieved. They swept the court ; they car- 
ried up the dinner to the fellows' table, and changed the plates and 
poured out the ale of the rulers of the society." 

20 14. exact sciences. Name three exact sciences. Why should 
mathematics be called an exact science in contrast with biology ? Con- 
sult your teachers of those subjects. 

22 17. gownsman. Though the students of American universities 
customarily wear gowns only in the senior year or at Commencement 
time, the distinction between town and gown is still maintained. At 
one of the universities of New York, for example, there is a flourishing 
Town and Gown Club. 

25 16. 27th of February, 1749, 0. S. The abbreviation O. S. stands for 
Old Style. When the Julian calendar was replaced by the Gregorian 
in England by Act of Parliament which went into effect in 1752, eleven 



NOTES 357 

days had to be omitted, so that the third day of September, 1752, for 
instance, was called the fourteenth. The 27th of February, 1749, Old 
Style, would thus be equivalent to the loth of March, 1749, New 
Style. It is this change of calendars which causes the ^frequent puz- 
zling difference in dates of English history for events between the years 
1582, when the New Style was inaugurated by Pope Gregory XIII, and 
1751, when England adopted the New Style. Why the eleven days 
had to be omitted is explained in Newcomb and Holden's Astrono77iy, 
page 254. 

33 7. ship bound for America. Robert Burns also planned escape 
from the troubles of life by a voyage to America. See, for instance, 
Carlyle's striking sentence about Burns after he had lost his "character 
for sobriety": "He sees no escape but the saddest of all: exile from 
his loved country to a country in every sense inhospitable and abhorrent 
to him." Coleridge and Southey were two other English poets who 
planned to emigrate to America. 

34 12. Cerberus. The three-headed dog which in Greek mythology 
guarded the entrance to the Lower World. 

38 6. the Temple. Compare the phrase in the second paragraph of 
Chapter XXIX, " a student in the Temple," and the reference to Gold- 
smith's window in the Temple, Chapter XXVI. The Temple was in 
two parts, the Inner Temple and the Middle Temple. These groups 
of buildings belonged originally to the Knights Templars, but in the 
course of time came to be occupied, with the king's sanction, by 
lawyers, who formed themselves into societies of the inns of court; 
the name Temple remained. " These societies are no Corporations, 
nor have any judicial power over their Members, but have certain 
Orders among themselves, which, by Consent, have the Force of Laws. 
For slight Offences, they are only excommoned, that is, put out of Com- 
mons ; which is, not to eat with the rest in their Halls. And for greater, 
they lose their Chambers, and are expelled the House." (Page 135, 
Vol. I, The History and Survey of the Cities of London and Westminster, 
Borough of Southwark and Parts Adjacent, published in London, 1774.) 
Many quaint details of much interest are to be found in this old history. 
One of the treasures is a fascinating big yellow-stained map of the 
London of 1733. 

The region of the Temple was not confined to lawyers and law 
students. On the second floor of No. 2, Brick Court, in the Middle 
Temple district, Goldsmith died. He had furnished the rooms lavishly 
with £itOO obtained for 73^1? Good-natured Man. Near a paved walk 
that leads along the north side of the Round Church of the Temple to 



358 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

the Master's House, is the simple monument inscribed, " Here lies 
Oliver Goldsmith." (Compare Chapter XLV, first paragraph.) 

40 34. brandered chop. A chop broiled on a brander or gridiron. 
The Scotch and North of England word " brander " is shortened from 
Middle English brandire, meaning " brand-iron." What common Eng- 
lish words are of the same origin as "brandered " .'' In English Etymol- 
ogy, Kluge and Lutz omit " brander." 

42 6. the question of ghosts. In 1762 the story of a ghost that 
haunted a house in Cock Lane gained general belief. Boswell in his 
Life of Johnson maintains that Johnson was one of those who detected 
the imposture. The basis for the story of the ghost was the noises 
started in a dwelling on Cock Lane for the amusement of the occupants 
and then kept up in order to gull the public. (See also Chapter XIII 
of Irving's Goldsmith.) 

43 9. turnspit-dog. Formerly dogs were used in treadmills to turn 
the pointed rod on which meat was fixed before a fire to be turned and 
roasted. The practice of having animals like sheep, horses, and dogs fur- 
nish the power for the running of different machines is still to be observed 
in some regions. A pet sheep or dog sometimes now turns a churn, and 
horses in a treadmill make the buzz saw whirl for the cutting of wood. 

44 19. say nothing. In his description of the Dutch lover in Tales 
of a Traveller, Irving writes : " This youngster [Dirk Waldron] gradu- 
ally became an intimate visitor of the family. He talked little, but he 
sat long. He filled the father's pipe when it was empty, gathered up 
the mother's knitting-needle or ball of worsted when it fell to the 
ground : stroked the sleek coat of the tortoise-shell cat, and replenished 
the teapot for the daughter from the bright copper kettle that sang 
before the fire. All these quiet little offices may seem of trifling import; 
but when true love is translated into Low Dutch, it is in this way that 
it eloquently expresses itself." The luminous sentence, " He talked 
little, but he sat long," could scarcely be improved upon. In fact, the 
whole passage shows Irving's characteristically quiet humor at its best. 
Try to decide what is the difference between Goldsmith's humor as seen 
in his letter to Bryanton, Chapter IV, and Irving's humor as illustrated 
in the selection quoted above. 

45 11. fair. An unusual substantive ; compare, " None but the 
brave deserve the fair." 

46 25. the Highlands. This region of Scotland is the scene of Sir 
Walter Scott's poem The Lady of the Lake. 

49 11. LaMancha. Compare a similar allusion in Chapter III. Don 
Quixote de La Mancha is the Spanish gentleman who sets forth with 



NOTES 359 

his squire, Sancho Panza, in search of adventures, and who enjoys plenty 
of excitement in the course of his travels. Don Qtiixote is the title of 
the book in which these absurd fictitious adventures are recorded. 
The story was written in the early part of the seventeenth century by 
Cervantes, a Spanish author, who, like Samuel Johnson, was once 
imprisoned for debt. 

51 19. well-clothed vegetable. In the third paragraph of " Wolfert 
Webber," Irving himself dubbed a Hollander a vegetable : " The Web- 
ber dynasty continued in uninterrupted succession. . . . The eldest 
son succeeded to the looks, as well as the territory, of his sire; and, 
had the portraits of this line of tranquil potentates been taken, they 
would have presented a row of heads marvellously resembling in shape 
and magnitude the vegetables over which they reigned." 

51 28. Strephon. A lover, the name being taken from a character in 
Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia. 

55 1. Versailles. Distant eleven miles from Paris. Here the French 
kings, Louis XIII, XIV, XV, and XVI, resplendently garbed and 
attended by the beauties of France, held court in their famous royal 
palace during the period of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 
With Versailles are connected many of the most striking incidents of 
French history. It was to Versailles, for instance, that the French 
rabble rushed on the fifth and sixth of October, 1789, when the Revolu- 
tion had begun ; and it was here that the Revolutionists of France first 
became conscious that the persons of their king and queen were not 
sacred. See the histories of this period, or Tableaux de la Revolution 
Franfaise, an historical French reader (G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1884). 

55 26. Voltaire. See Lippincott's Biographical Dictionary, page 2408, 
column a: "In 1755 he [Voltaire] established himself at Ferney, 
near Geneva, in Switzerland." Since Voltaire wa's near Geneva, Gold- 
smith could not have made his acquaintance in Paris at this time. 
Dobson comments on the blunder, page 37 of the Memoir, and page .40 
of the Life. 

56 34. illy. Because the word "ill "is properly either an adjective 
or an adverb, and because "illy," a later coinage, has no real function 
in language, careful writers avoid " illy " and use instead " ill." J. M. 
Hart, in his Handbook of English Composition, calls " illy " a useless 
and incorrect word, which ought to be rejected from one's vocabulary. 

68 14. Padua. The University of Padua, which dates back to the 
thirteenth century, is one of the oldest and most distinguished univer- 
sities on the Continent. It is particularly celebrated for its work in 
medicine. Goldsmith, according to painstaking researches made a few 



36o OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

years ago, probably did not receive a degree at Padua. Irving is cau- 
tious on this point, you observe. He merely remarks that Goldsmith 
" is said to have taken his medical degree " at this university. 

60 16. thesis. As here used, "thesis" means "proposition," subject 
for debate, condensed statement of principles to be defended by argu- 
ment. Frequently the vyord is used to mean the development of some 
line of thought in a written treatise submitted at college in satisfaction 
of a requirement for graduation. 

61 8. "Adventures of a Strolling Player." Read Irving's sketches 
entitled " Buckthorne " and "The Strolling Manager" in Tales of a 
Traveller. 

62 31. may I die of an anodyne necklace. Equivalent to, "may I be 
hanged." An anodyne is a drug which relieves or ends pain. A neck- 
lace, that is, a rope around the neck, would end pain for good. The 
language is of course figurative. 

62 32. Newgate. This was originally the western gate of London wall, 
was afterward a prison for criminals of the county of Middlesex, and was 
retained until recently as a city jail, though only for transient prisoners. 
A late dispatch from London to one of the New York newspapers an- 
nounces that a magnificent new Central Criminal Court Building is to be 
erected on the site of Newgate Prison. (Compare note, page 89, line 6.) 

63 14. bolster. That is, pillow. The word is gradually passing from 
use. Compare Milton's Comus: 

" Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now, 
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm 
Leans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears." 

63 28. Bankside, Southwark. A suburban neighborhood of London 
on the south bank of the Thames. The Globe Theater, where Shakes- 
peare acted, was situated there. 

64 6. precarious assistance from his pen. Goldsmith only shared the 
lot of other writers of the time. Macaulay gives in hxs Johnson a vivid 
picture of the struggles of that author during his early years in London. 

64 28. .flEsculapius. The god of medicine in Greek mythology. 

65 33. ignorant of Arabic. A characteristic touch showing Goldsmith's 
extremely impractical nature. Certain rough Arabic, or more precisely, 
Aramaic writings on the rocks of Mt. Sinai were the subject of much 
conjecture in Goldsmith's time. These inscriptions were scientifically 
studied and explained a century later. They were written or engraved 
on the rocks in the early centuries of the Christian era by the Naba- 
tasans, a people of northern Arabia. 



NOTES 361 

66 4. teem. Does the use of this word here indicate poverty in 
Irving's vocabulary, inasmuch as he used the same word for the same 
idea three paragraphs back ? 

6821. Whig principles. Two great political parties — Whigs and 
Tories — arose about the end of the seventeenth century in England. 
The Whigs, who professed more liberal principles than the Tories, stood 
for trade, for the expansion of the influence of England throughout the 
world by commercial activity. They were for bold and vigorous action 
in all political matters. From the accession of George I till the early 
years of George Ill's reign, they directed, for nearly fifty years, the gov- 
ernment of England almost absolutely. The name became gradually 
disused after about 1832. The Tories, on the other hand, whose strength 
lay in the country clergy and gentry, believed in the policy of holding 
closely to old methods, of maintaining the existing order, of leaving 
customs of long standing undisturbed. They were more powerful than 
the Whigs in English politics from about 1760 till 1830. From the life 
and characteristics of Goldsmith as already presented, would he be likely 
to side enthusiastically with either party.? 

69 21. antiqua mater of Grub Street. Compare The Vicaj- of Wake- 
field, Chapter XXI, third paragraph. Antiqua mater means ancient or 
venerable mother. Grub Street was where the poorer writers had their 
lodgings. By saying that he hailed the " antiqua mater of Grub Street " 
with reverence, George Primrose meant, therefore, that he entered rev- 
erently upon the profession of writing. 

70 8. literary hack. References to authors who devoted their ener- 
gies to the making of perfunctory essays, prefaces, and translations, 
when orders were given for such by the publishers, are constantly found 
in the biographies of Johnson, Goldsmith, Steele, Addison, and other 
seventeenth- and eighteenth-century writers. There are poor authors 
doing similar work in New York City to-day. 

75 25. clothed in purple and fine linen. Luke xvi, 19: "There was 
a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared 
sumptuously every day." 

76 6. garret in the Haymarket. The Haymarket, which was a London 
market established in 1644, is now a square in London. This story of 
Addison's lodgings is told also in Macaulay's Essay on Addison, para- 
graph 53 : *' Addison then occupied a garret up three pair of stairs, over 
a small shop in the Haymarket." 

76 26. the Muses. The Muses in classic mythology were the inspir- 
ing goddesses of art, music, science, and literature. Lines 25-30 mean, 
then, if expressed literally, that poverty often impels a man to begin 



362 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

writing poetry, and that he visually stays poor while he continues to write 
poetry. (See page 12, line 14.) 

77 21. Usher. A scholarly Irish bishop, whose chronology of the 
Bible was accepted as standard for many years. 

78 16. mountain will not come. In 1849, the year of the publication 
of Oliver Goldsmith, Irving published Mahomet and His Successors. 
Mahomet or Mohammed was the founder of the religion which is called 
Mohammedanism. When he announced his system, the Arabs wanted 
proofs. " Do miracles," said they, " hke Moses and Jesus." To this 
Mohammed replied, " It would be tempting God to do so, and would 
bring down his anger." Then, urged further, in order to satisfy them, 
he commanded Mount Safa to come to him. When it did not stir, he 
said, " God is merciful. Had the mountain obeyed my words, it would 
have fallen on us to our destruction. I will therefore go to the mountaifi, 
and thank God he has mercy on a stiff-necked generation." Thus, a 
proverb often quoted had its origin in this expression of the prophet 
Mohammed. 

79 23. Raleigh. During his twelve years of imprisonment in the 
Tower of London, Raleigh (or Ralegh) wrote his History of the World, 
essays on political subjects of the day, a book on the invention of ships, 
and one on the art of naval warfare. By all these he hoped to win the 
favor of King James I, but he only increased the dislike of the king, 
who thought he discovered treason in the history. Raleigh is said to 
have thrown the second part of this History of the World into the fire 
because the sale of the first part was not satisfactory. {Ralegh — His 
Exploits and Voyages, by G. M. Towle.) 

80 31. the union. That is, the formal joining of England and Ireland 
into one government with a central parliament at London. This union 
was accomplished by statute adopted in 1800, to go into effect January i, 
1801. 

81 7. Edward Mills. This is one of the cases where the present edi- 
tion differs from the first edition (Geo. P. Putnam, 155 Broadway, New 
York, 1849) and from the Tauchnitz edition (Leipzig, 1850). The edition 
of 1850 has Wells in every case for Mills ; the 1849 edition reads Wells 
in two places (page 81, line 7, and page 82, line 13), but has Mills else- 
where (page 81, line 21, and page 97, line 10). The passage containing 
the word does not appear in Irving's original biographical sketch of 
Goldsmith, viz., The Life of Goldsmith, with Selections from his Writings, 
in two volumes (Harper and Bros., 82 Cliff Street, New York, 1840). 
Another case where the first edition has not been followed is page 18, 
line 27, where the earliest text makes Goldsmith enter college in 1747, 



NOTES 363 

but where the Tauchnitz has changed to 1744, which Austin Dobson 
{Memoir, page 13, and Life, page 20) considers correct, though Prior and 
Forster read 1745. A third case is page 47, line 31, where the first edition 
has Hammel, but where Dobson, probably following the large encyclo- 
pedias like Larousse, reads Hamel. One of the most curious blunders 
found in the first edition and in the Tauchnitz, but corrected here, 
is in page 54, line 13; the year 1775 obviously ought to be 1755. ^^^^ 
another case is page 145, line t^t,, where the word Gosford of the first 
edition has been changed to Gosfield, a well-known place in Essex (see 
map of London in Century Atlas). Lastly, on page 244, line 30, Carle of 
the earliest editions has been changed to Carte, the correct form of the 
name of this historian. Other changes need not be mentioned. Some 
of the mistakes indicate carelessness or haste on Irving's part ; most of 
the changes are merely the correction of printers' errors. It is advisable 
to point out on page 86, line 10, a peculiar idiom which may seem at 
first glance a misprint; and on page 138, line 10, a downright mistake 
in grammar by Irving, a mistake which has come all the way from the 
1840 sketch to the present edition. 

83 22. uncle Contarine. His death is spoken of in the first paragraph 
of Chapter VI. Is this consistent with the statement here ? (See also 
the next to the last paragraph in Chapter V.) 

85 7. tacitly. Is Goldsmith accurate in the use of this word .'' 

85 11. had rather. "Had rather" is as correct an expression as 
" would rather," which some rhetoricians say should be used in 
preference. 

86 14. Butler and Otway. Samuel Butler, the author of the cele- 
brated satire of Hudibras, and Thomas Otway, author of many plays 
such as The Orphan and Venice Preserved. Butler's misfortunes are 
referred to in the first paragraph of Carlyle's Essay on Burns. Otway 
died in a squalid shop, close to the prison where he spent his last days, 

88 4. coast of Coromandel. This is the southeastern coast of India. 
Madras is the principal city. A kind of cloth receives its name from 
this city, and manufacturing industries still flourish on the coast. 

89 6. the Old Bailey. Just as nowadays wretched habitations usu- 
ally cluster about the city prisons, so in the age of Goldsmith poverty 
and filth reigned near the jails like Newgate, Fleet, and the Old Bailey, 
which were all in the same section of the city. A new prison, according 
to a recent newspaper dispatch from London, is to be built on the site 
of the Old Bailey. 

90 14. College of Surgeons. The article on London in Chambers's 
EncyclopcEdia gives details about this building. It was situated on the 



364 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

south side of Lincoln's Inn Fields, once the largest public square of 
London. In the building erected in 1835 ^^^ ^^ be seen several pictures 
by Hogarth and Reynolds. 

96 12. another publication, i.e. " The Club of Queer Fellows " in 
Ta/es of a Traveller, first published in 1824. The part which precedes 
the passage quoted in the Oliver Goldsmith is of interest as suggesting 
something disproved by later scholars, that is, that Goldsmith wrote 
The Vicar of Wakefield in Green Arbor Court ; and as illustrating 
further Irving's delightful style in the Tales of a Traveller: 

" As it was now growing late, we parted for the evening, though I felt anxious 
to know more of this practical philosopher [Dribble]. I was glad, therefore, 
when Buckthorne proposed to have another meeting, to talk over old school times, 
and inquired his schoolmate's address. The latter seemed at first a little shy of 
naming his lodgings, but suddenly, assuming an air of hardihood — ' Green 
Arbor Court, sir,' exclaimed he — ' Number — in Green Arbor Court. You 
must know the place. Classic ground, sir, classic ground ! It was there Gold- 
smith wrote his Vicar of Wakefield — I always like to live in literary haunts.' 

" I was amused with his whimsical apology for shabby quarters. On our way 
homeward, Buckthorne assured me that this Dribble had been the prime wit 
and great wag of the school in their boyish days, and one of those unlucky 
urchins denominated bright geniuses. As he perceived me curious respecting his 
old schoolmate, he promised to take me with him in his proposed visit to Green 
Arbor Court. 

" A few mornings afterward he called upon me, and we set forth on our expe- 
dition. He led me through a variety of singular alleys, and courts, and blind 
passages ; for he appeared to be perfectly versed in all the intricate geography of 
the metropolis. At length we came out upon Fleet Market, and traversing it, 
turned up a narrow street to the bottom of a long steep flight of stone steps, 
called Breakneck Stairs. These, he told me, led up to Green Arbor Court, and 
that down them poor Goldsmith might many a time have risked his neck. When 
we entered the court, I could not but smile to think in what out-of-the-way 
corners genius produces her bantlings ! And the muses, those capricious dames, 
who, forsooth, so often refuse to visit palaces, and deny a single smile to votaries 
in splendid studies and gilded drawing-rooms, — what holes and burrows will they 
frequent to lavish their favors on some ragged disciple ! 

" This Green Arbor Court I found to be a small square, surrounded by tall 
and miserable houses," etc., as in the Oliver Goldsmith. 

Goldsmith lived from 1758 to 1760 in this court (erroneously called 
Green Anchor Court by A. J. C. Hare, Vol. I, p. 169, Walks in Lo?tdon). 
The court began at the upper end of the Old Bailey. Dickens often 
visited the region with Irving. "I should love to go with you," he 
writes to Irving, " as I have gone, God knows how often, into Little 
Britain and Eastcheap and Green Arbor Court and Westminster Abbey." 



NOTES 365 

By pilgrimages to places around which centered memories of Goldsmith, 
Irving came naturally to a feeling of almost personal regard and admi- 
ration for him. This attitude of Irving's is to be kept clearly in mind 
when one is reading the biography. 

99 11. happiness that man never tastes. There is a passage of similar 
thought in Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies : " But the best romance becomes 
dangerous, if, by its excitement, it renders the ordinary course of life 
uninteresting, and increases the morbid thirst for useless acquaintance 
with scenes in which we shall never be called upon to act." 

106 7. Ishmaelites. Descendants of Ishmael, son of Abraham. Ish- 
mael and his mother Hagar were driven into the wilderness. Genesis 
xxi, 14-16: "And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and took 
bread, and a bottle of water, and gave it unto Hagar, putting it on her 
shoulder, and the child, and sent her away : and she departed, and wan- 
dered in the wilderness of Beersheba. And the water was spent in the 
bottle, and she cast the child under one of the shrubs. And she went, 
and sat her down over against him a good way off, as it were a bowshot : 
for she said, Let me not see the death of the child. And she sat over 
against him, and lift up her voice, and wept." An Ishmaelite of the 
press was therefore a writer who felt himself cast out by public opinion 
and deprived of his just dues. In applying the term Ishmaelite to 
Kenrick, the author dealt more gently with him than he deserved. But 
see page 187, line 24, and page 341, lines 4, 14. 

10628. St. John's gate. This still exists in Clerkenwell. It stands 
now amid mean houses and cheap shops, and is all that is left of a once 
splendid church. The original Priory of St. John of Jerusalem was 
founded in the year iioo, and dedicated in 1185 by Heraclius, Patriarch 
of Jerusalem, who came to England for money to help in one of the cru- 
sades. The present gate belongs to the English Knights of St. John, who 
have established an ambulance station beside it. (W. Besant's London.) 

107 23. 'Provoked Husband.' Begun by Vanbrugh, and finished by 
Gibber, this drama was first played in 1728. 

107 31. caput mortuum. Literally, "a dpad head," then extended to 
mean something from which all valuable attributes have been taken away. 

108 4. a wit. Goldsmith's statement that one Saxon word meant both 
" wit " and •' witch" is unwarranted. By Saxon Goldsmith evidently meant 
Anglo-Saxon or Old English. The Anglo-Saxon word for " witch " 
was wicce. There was no Anglo-Saxon word for " wit," in the sense of a 
person possessing wit ; the Anglo-Saxon {i>^e)witt meant "intellect," " un- 
derstanding"; wiV^ meant "wise man," "councillor." {Sweet, Student's 
Dictionary of Anglo-Saxon ; and Kluge and Lutz, English Etymology.) 



366 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

111 5. Bickerstaff. Isaac Bickerstaff was an Irish dramatist. Do 
not confuse the name of this actual man of letters with Swift's pseu- 
donym of Bickerstaff. 

114 28. "Great. Cham." Smollett's letter containing this epithet is 
printed in Boswell's Life of Johnson. It can readily be found there by 
reference to the Index. A little later in this chapter Johnson is called 
the " Ursa Major " of literature, that is, the Great Bear, a constellation 
the principal stars of which make the Dipper. 

114 32. Wine-Office Court. The house, No. 6, Wine-Office Court, 
where Goldsmith lived, is now shored up and will soon have to be torn 
down or it will fall itself. 

116 8. George Steevens. His work as an editor of Shakespeare has 
been of much service to subsequent editors. 

116 14. Aristophanes of the day. By the ordinary educated man, 
Aristophanes, who was a celebrated Greek satiric dramatist, is best 
remembered on account of his famous frog chorus, in his comedy 
entitled The Frogs, 405 B.C. It is a curious fact that Samuel Foots 
(17 20-1 777) should also be best remembered, not because of his satir- 
ical powers as a dramatist, in which he somewhat resembled Aris- 
tophanes, but because of his nonsense sentences, first published at the 
sign of the Golden Bladder in Fleet Street, London, in 1760: " So she 
went out into the garden to get a cabbage leaf to make an apple pie. A 
bear popped its head into the shop and said, ' What, no soap ? ' So he 
died, and she very imprudently married the barber. And the pond- 
lilies and the gargillies and the little Panjandrum with the great big 
button on top were present at the wedding, and the children laughed 
till the gunpowder ran out of the heels of their shoes." Ask your 
parents if they ever learned anything like this when they were children. 
The versions differ greatly. 

The origin of these nonsense sentences is amusing. Foote frequently 
attended miscellaneous coffee-house lectures given by one Macklin. 
At the close of the lectures Foote liked to joke Macklin about things 
he had said. On one occasion Macklin made the statement that he 
could learn anything by heart on a single reading. Foote scribbled off 
the nonsense quoted above, handed it to the lecturer, and was greatly 
pleased when Macklin confessed it was too much for him. Many of 
Foote's bright sayings may be found in a little volume of about two 
hundred pages, Bon Mots of Samuel Foote and Theodore Hook, published 
by J. M. Dent & Co., London, 1894. 

119 14. Aleppo. See Macbeth, Act I, Scene 3, line 7 : " Her hysband 's 
to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger." Locate Aleppo, 



NOTES 367 

120 23. " White Conduit House." In Knight's Illustrated History of 
England, Vol. VII, page 96, there is a picture of the White Conduit 
House as it was in 1749. It was near Islington, in the suburbs, and 
was an especial resort of the citizens. (See page 180, line 18, and page 
190, line 28.) 

122 11. literary gossipings. Observe that Irving cites several of 
these bits of gossip in succeeding paragraphs. This sentence, then, 
serves as topic sentence for six paragraphs. 

124 17. Mitre Tavern. The Mitre which was Dr. Johnson's favorite 
resort stood in Mitre Court, off Fleet Street. There were, however, 
other Mitre Taverns in London. 

126 2. Hogarth the painter. Hogarth's paintings gained him great 
reputation in his day. They aimed to expose the follies of English life 
of the period. His engravings are also well known. Hogarth's works 
differ from Reynolds's in method of treatment and nature of subject. 

137 9. Oratorio. See dictionary and decide whether Goldsmith was 
qualified to succeed in this kind of composition. 

138 33. quarto form. The quarto was a book made of sheets which 
were folded twice, so that each sheet made four pages. The size of 
each page was therefore large. 

141 19. guineas. A guinea has twenty-one shillings, a pound has 
twenty. (See fourth from the last paragraph in Chapter XLII.) 

145 15. beautiful ballad. In a ballad, an author tells a story of love 
or adventure, usually in four-line stanzas. The old ballads in Percy's 
collection should be looked into, or if Percy's collection is not accessi- 
ble, the student may be able to find a copy of Gummere's Old English 
Ballads. Almost every one enjoys reading these ballads aloud. Their 
condensed statements of what happens, their practical English spirit, 
their rhythmical swing, and their interesting themes combine to make 
the reading of them enjoyable. 

146 32. strenuously. As the pupil's vocabulary becomes enlarged 
and as he gains wider familiarity with different shades of meaning of 
the same word, certain associations become connected with various 
words. "Strenuously" has at present many associations. Just what 
does the word mean ? 

149 2. beneath their dignity. An author dear to boys and girls and 
to grown people as well, the late Lewis Carroll, whose real name was 
Charles L. Dodgson, much preferred to be known as the writer of a dry 
mathematical book than as the creator of the delectable Alice of Alice's 
Adventures in Wonderland and Through The Looking-Glass and What 
Alice Found There. 



368 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

152 6. and who. " And " should join two or more words, phrases, or 
clauses of equal rank and similar form; it should not join a word or a 
phrase with a clause. Many writers, however, habitually disregard this 
rhetorical principle. In this particular passage, for instance, Irving is 
inaccurate in his construction, because "who had had " is a clause, but 
" the arbiter of British talent " is not a clause. 

152 23. the great genius of Germany. Just as Shakespeare is the great 
literary genius of England, and Hugo of France, so Goethe (1749-1832) 
is of Germany. His best known work is Faust, which has been trans- 
lated, if not like the Vicar of Wakefield into "almost every language," 
certainly into many languages. 

153 20. and which. See note above on " and who." 

160 16. the Continental tour. The university student whose parents 
were wealthy was ordinarily sent off to the Continent for a tour, usually 
called the Grand Tour. By this period of travel it was thought that the 
student gained ease of manner and general knowledge of life. Milton 
and Gibbon are among the celebrated English authors who in the days 
of their youth took the Grand Tour. 

161 4. drudging. Could this word be replaced by another that would 
fit into the sentence better ? 

165 21. Shebbeare. John Shebbeare (1709-1788) was an English 
physician, who attained some little celebrity in the eighteenth century 
by his political writings. 

168 33. Churchill's "Rosciad." Charles Churchill (1731-1764), at 
first a curate, gave up this profession at about the age of thirty and for 
a few years practiced the writing of poetry. His Rosciad (1761) pun- 
gently satirizes actors and stage managers of the day. The title of the 
play comes from the name of a celebrated Roman actor, Roscius, con- 
temporary with Caesar and Cicero. 

170 26. "rare Ben Jonson." Ben Jonson (1574-1637), a dramatist 
whom Shakespeare knew, is one of the many English writers unfortu- 
nate enough to taste prison life. Like Goldsmith, he traveled on the 
Continent, serving at one time in Flanders as a soldier. His best plays 
are Every Man in his Humour and Every Man out of his Humour. 
These are distinctly inferior to Shakespeare's dramas from the very 
fact indicated in the titles ; they deal with the manners or humours of 
people, that is, with special phases of human nature, rather than with 
human nature as a whole. (Stopford A. Brooke, English Literature.) 

174 34. and who. Compare note on page 152, line 6. 

176 14. Whitehead, the laureate. A list of the predecessors and suc- 
cessors of Whitehead as poet laureate will be found in Chambers. 



NOTES 369 

William Whitehead held the office from 1757 to 1785. He was a 
person of no poetical ability. Is the present laureate of England a 
notable poet ? 

177 17. warm. The meaning of "warm" here can be rendered by 
a common colloquialism. 

179 11. Tom Davies, the sometime Roscius. See note on page 168, 
line 33. Consider what Irving gains by calling Davies a " sometime 
Roscius," instead of a former actor. 

184 31. books of his tailor. Further light on this allusion to the 
tailor's books may be obtained from Mr. Pierre M. Irving's Life and 
Letters of Washington Irving: "Speaking to Mr. Irving of this biog- 
raphy of Goldsmith, soon after its appearance, I asked him if he had 
introduced any anecdotes not in Prior's or Forster's Life of him. 
' No,' playfully, ' I could not invent any new ones ; but I have altered 
the setting, and have introduced — not in their biography — Madame 
Darblay's anecdote about Boswell and Johnson, w'hich is capital. I 
have also made more of the Jessamy Bride, by adverting to the dates in 
the tailor^s bill, and fixing thereby the dates of certain visits to her." 

187 21. green-rooms. Rooms near the stage for the use of actors 
during the intervals of a play. Originally such rooms were decorated 
in green ; hence, according to Century Dictionary, the origin of the 
word " green-room." 

189 13. his ample fortune. Notice the tone of gentle irony running 
through this paragraph. Irving does not mean at all, in a literal sense, 
that he considered Goldsmith's fortune now ample. 

190 8. Blackstone. Referred to by Burke in his Speech on Concilia- 
tion with America: ^^1 hear that they have sold nearly as many of 
Blackstone's Commentaries in America as in England." 

19127. air of the most perfect familiarity. Compare the story of 
Jenkinson's assurance in entertaining Dr. Primrose, Vicar of Wakefield, 
Chapter XIX. 

194 10. book-building. This does not imply that Goldsmith had 
learned the printers' and bookbinders' trades. All through the biog- 
raphy Irving speaks in slighting terms of the work which Goldsmith 
had to do merely for a living as literary job-work, hack work, and book- 
building. One is reminded continually of Irving's essay, "The Art of 
Book-Making," in The Sketch-Book. 

201 12. his own personal defects. In constructing a detailed picture 
of Goldsmith from the items given here and there in the biography, it 
will be necessary to enumerate all the personal defects in the appear- 
ance of poor Noll. What were they ? 



370 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

205 7. a templar. See note on " the Temple," page 38, line 6. 

206 13. Ranelagh, Vauxhall. For explanation of Ranelagh, read 
Chapter XXXV, fifth from the last paragraph. For further details 
about Vauxhall, turn to the paper by Addison in the Spectator describ- 
ing Sir "Roger de Coverley's visit to Vauxhall; and read also Gold- 
smith's description of the place in the fifth paragraph of Chapter XLIII. 
A picture of Ranelagh as it appeared in 1751 will be found in Knight's 
History of England^ Vol. VII, page 97 ; and a picture of Vauxhall in 
Besant's London, page 379. 

212 13. entirely. Is anything gained by the statement that the 
" whole " stock was entirely exhausted } 

21618. Colman. He does not rank with Burke, Johnson, and Reyn- 
olds. In his day, however, George Colman was widely known because 
of his dramas, and more particularly because he was manager of the 
Covent Garden and Haymarket Theaters. Pages 409-411 of Forster's 
The Life and Adventures of Oliver Goldsmith contain a facsimile of a 
letter from Goldsmith to Colman. 

220 5. Royal Academy. Read again the first sentence of the preced- 
ing chapter. To be a Royal Academician is still the height of the 
ambition of many an English artist. Goldsmith's meeting at the dinner 
and elsewhere with different members of the nobility furnishes one of 
the striking phases of his life, in contrast to his mingling with the guz- 
zlers of the taverns. 

221 3. one hundred guineas. Goldsmith received forty pounds for 
his life of Parnell. According to this scale, ought he to have received 
more than a hundred guineas for The Deserted Village ? 

228 23. bays. Of course this is not to be taken literally. The idea 
is that honor because of his poetry had come to Goldsmith. Why 
" bays " has this meaning will be easily found. 

232 26. picktooth. Like " standerby " and several such words com- 
mon in eighteenth-century writing, "picktooth" is now used in a different 
form. What ? 

238 1. poet, while living. A similar thought appears in the first para- 
graph of Carlyle's Essay on Burns : " The inventor of a spinning jenny 
is pretty sure of his reward in his own day ; but the writer of a true poem, 
like the apostle of a true religion, is nearly as sure of the contrary." 

241 7. a companion-piece. Irving thinks of the situation as a picture, 
and so speaks of this canvas as one which would hang well alongside 
of another incident in Goldsmith's life. Compare the trick played on 
the young boy Goldsmith, Chapter I, or the Northumberland House 
story, Chapter XVI. 



NOTES 371 

243 17. Gray and Mason. Thomas Gray and William Mason, who 
were intimate friends, were two of the best poetical judges of the time. 
Both wrote poetry, and both were of sufficient literary training to give 
critical opinions on the Chatterton forgeries. 

24617. a second Boyle. This was a sweeping compliment to Beauclerc, 
not merited by his achievements. The name Boyle stands for the great 
advances in science and learning in the seventeenth century. He was 
excelled in experimental science only by Lord Bacon. 

250 30. the Jessamy Bride. A novel called The Jessamy Bride, by 
Mr. Frankfort Moore, was published a few years ago. Though fiction, 
it gives much that is of interest regarding the kind of man Goldsmith 
was. Still it is a question whether the student will not find authentic 
biography, such as Forster's The Life and Adventures of Oliver Gold- 
smith, on the whole, more entertaining than any fiction which deals 
with the lives of distinguished authors. 

255 9. argumentum ad hominem. An argument which has its foun- 
dations not in logical reasoning but in an appeal to the prejudices or 
feelings of the persons to whom it is addressed is called an argumentum 
o,d hominem. See Jevons, Elementary Lessons in Logic, page 178. 

262 1. the reputed author of "Junius." The question of who really 
was the author of the political writings signed " Junius " has been the 
subject of unlimited discussion. The usually accepted view is that 
Sir Philip Francis was Junius. 

263 16. the late George Colman. Like his father (Chapter XXVII), 
who was a member of the Club, Colman the younger wrote many com- 
edies and farces, and was the proprietor of the Haymarket Theater. 
He died in 1836. 

265 12. " not much larger than Garrick." The small size of the actor 
Garrick caused him to be the butt of many similar jokes. Foote seems 
always to have been on the lookout for a gibe at Garrick. Johnson 
says that Foote had a small bust of Garrick placed upon his bureau, 
where he kept his money. " You may be surprised," said Foote, " that 
I allow him to be so near my gold; but you will observe he has no 
hands." 

267 15. James's powders. Goldsmith's persistence in the use of these, 
to his material injury, is alluded to in Chapter XLIV. They were a 
preparation originally made by Dr. Robert James (1703-1776), and were 
thought to be efficacious for diseases accompanied by fever. 

268 13. Croker. Macaulay and Carlyle wrote reviews of Croker's 
edition of Boswell's Life of Johnson. Macaulay, who hated Croker, 
said regarding Croker's work as an editor : " A very large proportion 



372 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

of the two thousand five hundred notes which the editor boasts of 
having added to those of Boswell consists of the flattest and poorest 
reflections, reflections such as the least intelligent reader is quite com- 
petent to make for himself, and such as no intelligent reader would 
think it worth while to urter aloud. They remind us of nothing so 
much as of those profound and interesting annotations which are pen- 
cilled by sempstresses and apothecaries' boys on the dog-eared margins 
of novels borrowed from circulating libraries ; ' How beautiful ! ' ' Cursed 
prosy ! ' ' I don't like Sir Reginald Malcolm at all ! ' ' I think Pelham is 
a sad dandy.' " Macaulay's final criticism on Croker's edition is particu- 
larly cutting: "In truth, the printer and the editor have between them 
made the book so bad that we do not well see how it could have been 
worse." Carlyle, though in a less drastic style, also condemned the 
edition, saying for instance, " the Editor will punctually explain what is 
already sun-clear." 

269 15. The Stratford jubilee. At this celebration, 5769, Boswell fool- 
ishly tried to recite a poem, but because of his absurd Corsican dress, 
his pistols, his musket, and his cap bearing the inscription " Paoli and 
Liberty," was unable to get a hearing. For the allusion to Paoli turn 
to what Irving says in the seventh paragraph of Chapter XXXIX. 

276 24. and in which. Compare this construction with the use of 
" and which " three paragraphs below, and determine why Irving's Eng- 
lish is technically correct in one case and not in the other. 

290 4. Ossian Macpherson. The hostihty of James Macpherson (1738- 
1796) to the whole Johnson clique and thus possibly to Goldsmith in 
particular on the occasion of the first presentation of She Stoops to 
Conquer, was due to Johnson's maintaining that Macpherson's so-called 
translations of the works of Ossian, a Gaelic poet of the third century, 
were not really translations of freshly discovered poems, but were original 
compositions by Macpherson. Because of these translations, which 
gained him much notoriety, Macpherson is dubbed Ossian Macpherson 
by Irving. 

292 15. a slight palliation. Goldsmith received, according to William 
Black {Goldsmith, English Men of Letters Series), from She Stoops to 
Conquer, nearly five hundred pounds from the three benefits or "author's 
nights." 

297 6. inroads upon private life. Much personal chitchat in the 
newspapers of the present day has no justifiable function. 

297 32. Mrs. Williams. Among the queer dependents who quartered 
themselves upon Johnson, Mrs. Anna Williams, as she is called in Bos- 
well's JohnscUf was perhaps chief. Irving refers to the same person in 



NOTES 373 

Chapter XIII when he speaks of Miss Williams. A sentence from a 
letter of Dr. Johnson at the time of Mrs. Williams's death shows, perhaps, 
why Johnson admitted her to a " critical conference " over Goldsmith's 
letter: '' Had she had good humor and prompt elocution, her universal 
curiosity a?id comprehensive knowledge would have made her the delight 
of all that knew her" (Boswell's Life of Johnson, Vol. II, p. 447, 
T. Y. Crowell & Co., New York and Boston). Boswell says that she 
was "a woman of more than ordinary talents" (I, 129), and that she 
made tea with sufficient dexterity notwithstanding her blindness, though 
her manner of seeing whether the cups were full or not was a little 
peculiar, since she had to poke her finger down the side till it touched 
the tea, in order to tell how much more to pour in (I, 346). 

299 9. Miss Burney. One of three women writers of England who 
have gained lasting celebrity, the other two being Jane Austen and 
George Eliot. Miss Frances Burney (Madam D'Arblay) published 
anonymously at the age of twenty-six a novel, Evelina, which imme- 
diately won enthusiastic praise from Burke and Johnson. Burke, 
indeed, sat up all night to read it. Madam D'Arblay, because of the 
wide popularity of this novel, is often called Evelina Burney. 

303 18. Jacobitism. After King James II, a member of the Stuart 
family, fled to France in 1688, the partisans of his family were called 
Jacobites, from the Latin word for James, i.e. Jacobus (Murray's New 
English Dictionary). Even to-day there are people in England who 
have not become reconciled to the ruling dynasty, but who consider 
that a Stuart should be on the English throne. Do not confuse Jacobite 
with Jacobin, which has an entirely different meaning. 

306 27. the great philologist. Strictly speaking, Johnson was not a 
great philologist, for his knowledge of the laws of language develop- 
ment was necessarily limited. Lexicographer, the name used in the 
next chapter, more adequately describes Johnson's real services in the 
history of the growth of the English language. 

311 25. Launcelot Gobbo to his dog. The student will search his Merch- 
ant of Venice in vain for this allusion. Irving has made a slip. Look rather 
for the character Launce in Shakespeare's Two Gentlejnen of Verona. 

313 13. Mr. Toplady. Augustus Montague Toplady (1740-17 78), 
vicar of Broad Henbury, Devonshire, is known generally on account of 
his hymns, such as Rock of Ages. His controversial writings are pretty 
well forgotten. 

315 28. a republic. The phrase " republic of letters " is common. 

318 12. Berkeleyan system. Bishop George Berkeley maintained 
that there is no proof of the existence of matter anywhere except in our 



374 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

own perceptions. This system of philosophy, called idealism, was 
developed in The Principles of Human Knowledge (1710). 

325 6. whereabout. Commonly " whereabouts" is used instead of 
whereabout, though the dictionaries recognize both words as in good 
standing. 

325 25. Ugolino. Ugolino della Gherardesca was an Italian soldier 
who led the inhabitants of Pisa in unsuccessful war with the Genoese 
and Florentines. He was finally starved in prison with his two sons and 
two nephews. Yet it happens, strangely enough, that Reynolds did not 
have this story in mind when he painted the picture, but merely gave 
the title afterwards as one which seemed appropriate. 

328 23. country Christmas. Irving's detailed descriptions of Christ- 
mas scenes in England should be read in The Sketch-Book. 

330 4. dreary bachelor abode. Irving's several references to the 
dreariness of Goldsmith's bachelor life are evidently intended to bring 
out the contrast of what might have been if the poor poet had married 
the Jessamy Bride. 

333 2. touched off. Observe that the same verb is used earlier in 
the paragraph. Is the repetition a blemish in Irving's style? 

338 29. Ninon de L'Enclos. Anne or Ninon de L'Enclos (i 620-1 706) 
was a celebrated French wit and beauty. Her literary taste and judg- 
ment were much admired by a coterie of distinguished Frenchmen. 

340 11. the Temple Church. See note on "the Temple," page 38, 
line 6. 

341 21. Nollekens (pronounced nore-kenz). Besides the bust of 
Goldsmith, Joseph Nollekens made busts of Garrick and Sterne, which 
are considered meritorious works. He was an English sculptor, whose 
father, a painter of Antwerp, had settled in England. Nollekens was 
made a member of the Royal Academy in 1772. 



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